


To Just Forget the World

by xXxVioletSkyxXx



Series: The Jily Archive [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming of Age, F/M, First Kiss, First War with Voldemort, Fluff and Angst, Jilytober 2020, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Mutual Pining, Romance, Seventh year, Slow Burn, jily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 02:09:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 126,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21153839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXxVioletSkyxXx/pseuds/xXxVioletSkyxXx
Summary: “James...” she whispered, her fingers grabbing the hem of his cardigan and pulling him closer. “James, please,”“Please what?”“I don’t like you seeing other girls,”James’ heart pounded, and he could feel all of her, every curve, she was pressed so closely.“I’m not, I—I couldn’t, not when—”“Not when?”“I couldn’t,” James said, swallowing, his eyes trained on hers. “Even when I was seeing other girls, it wasn’t them who kept me up at night, all I thought about, all I could think about, was you,”





	1. A Dark and Stormy Love Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Lily have a conversation about things previously unsaid in the Gryffindor Common Room and draw unexpected and long-awaited comfort from one another.

_September 24th, 1977_

It was midnight in the Gryffindor Common Room, and James Potter hovered over a potions essay due some weeks from now. His quill scratched gently across the paper, and he consulted his textbook for a moment before continuing with his paper. He scrunched up his nose when he concentrated, his lower lip was bitten and entirely too visible for her taste.

He'd grown some over the summer, his gangly limbs no longer looked detached from his frame. And those arms, _good God, _she could spend hours watching him from afar. As it turns out, all those hours he had spent on a broomstick caused him to fill out in a way that caused many a third and fourth-year to stare and giggle at any given moment. He was muscular, Merlin forbid. Muscular and just a little bit gorgeous.

"You're up late, Potter."

He looked up, his eyes blurry and unfocused in the dim light. He looked around, unaware of the fact that the Common Room has been empty for hours. Their eyes met, and he smiled a crooked smile that sent flutters to her belly. Lily slipped off the stairway to the girls' dormitory; her socked feet silent on the mismatched carpets.

James tried his best to relax his shoulders, unclench his teeth, to calm the pounding of his heart like it was every day that Lily Evans comes for him in an empty room in the middle of the night. Like it was every day that any bird worth a dime sat beside him to do more than to cop a feel.

_This means nothing, James. _

S_he doesn't fancy you._

"Jus' wanna get it over with," James said, tossing his quill onto the coffee table in a way he hoped looked effortless. He didn't notice right away the circles beneath her eyes, nor her jerky and shuddering movements.

She sat beside him anyway, tucking her knees up to her chest. James looked at her out of the corner of his eyes as she rested her chin on her knees. Lily's stocking was falling down her calf, and she looked soft, comfortable. More exposed and vulnerable than he had ever seen her. The fire popped, and the loose ashes swirled in the air. Her hair was the colour of rubies in the firelight.

"What are you doing up so late?" he said quietly, swallowing visibly.

Lily thought for a moment before responding, and James' eyebrows scrunch together in response to her indecision. "No reason," she answered at last. "Couldn't stand my own company."

_This means nothing, James._

"I'm sorry to hear that," James responded, pausing as if to drag out her response. He tried to steady his breathing as if he could delay the rapid thumping of his heart, the way his breath caught whenever she came too close.

She had spoken, her eyes downcast and sad. Her sister didn't want her to come home.

"Evans, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," Lily said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. The jumper her mother knit her when she was thirteen, the Christmas present she never took off.

"I should have—should've seen it coming."

"She's your sister,"

Lily turned, "Lots of people have sisters."

"I don't,"

"No," Lily said, summoning a glass of something amber and sparking and after a deep breath took a sip. James had been around social drinking all his life, but this was something different, something almost desperate. He had never seen her like this, never seen anybody like this. "No, I don't suppose you do."

James wiped his hands on his trousers, straightened his glasses and summoned a drink of his own, the alcohol misty and cold.

"Never knew you to be a drinker," Lily said over the rim of her glass.

"No?" James said. "It's like you don't know me at all, Evans."

Lily considered him, took another drink and set the glass on the coffee table. "Truth or dare, Potter."

James shifted uncomfortably, his eyes downcast. 

"What's this?" She asked. "Never played?"

"Not with you," he said. Not with girls. Not with anyone besides the Marauders, and he didn't remember most of what was said anyway.

"Well, the rules are simple," she said, moving to rest on the very edge of the table, knees between his own. She shifted his essay to the side, and James swallowed, forced himself to stay still. "Truth or dare, Potter?"

James set the glass down, wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Truth."

"Who was your first kiss?"

James considered for a moment, but only for an effect; like he genuinely had to think about it. His first kiss was Lorena Jorgenson, a quick snog behind the suit of armour on the fourth-floor landing. He was thirteen, and she was in fourth year, her mouth was wet, and her hands were everywhere_,_ and James had dreamt about her for four months. Sirius had teased him beyond belief when he told them, and it was only then that he realized she was dating that Hufflepuff fifth year with arms like a gorilla. They hadn't spoken a word to each other since.

"Well," he said, revelling in her attention, resting his glass on her thigh. "I think the first girl I kissed was Alberta Gregson."

"That Slytherin girl? The blonde one? She's four years older than us!"

"I have a way with birds,"

"I don't believe you,"

"You should," James said, taking another sip if only to stop his hands from shaking. "Okay, Evans, your turn. Truth or dare?"

Lily considered for a moment. "Dare,"

"I dare you to break up with Cauterwal,"

She scoffed into her drink, but her eyes were still red, and Lily had never been particularly good at hiding her reaction. She looked distressed and exhilarated simultaneously, and his heart leapt. 

"Since when do you care who I date?" Lily said, not quite meeting his eyes. 

"I don't," James said, looking away from her eyes and her tears and focused on the fire, on the rain lashing the tower windows, anywhere but at her, at Lily, about the one person who meant absolutely everything to him. He tried to focus on not spilling his drink, but he could feel her, muscles moving and stretching, the intoxicating sight of so many inches of thigh he had never been so close to before. 

Lily shrugged, took another sip, seemingly unaware of his plight. "I'm too good for him anyway," she said. James' heart skipped a beat, and his smile widened. Her boyfriend was handsy, and more than once, James had caught him with a hand far too close to places he had only dreamed of. When it last happened, Sirius had gripped his arm, and Remus shook his head, mouth tight. Lily was old enough to make her own decisions. It wasn't up to him to decide what she did (or indeed, who she did it with). _God, _was she sleeping with him? 

James raised his arm, lowered it suddenly and then wordlessly refilled her glass.

"God, I forgot how much this shite burns," Lily said, shaking her head, then turned to face him. "I thought you couldn't do wordless magic?" 

"Comes with practice, I suppose," James said. (It had taken four months, sixteen days and anything harder than a summoning charm had taken three years of practice). "Sirius and I have been practicing."

James shifted suddenly, suddenly very aware of how close he was to her, how he could see her breasts move as she breathed, the way the hollow in her neck shifted as she turned her head. He cleared his throat and moved to the far side of the couch, patting the cushion beside him.

"Room for two, Evans," he said, his voice shaky and low. 

To his astonishment, Lily rose with a great deal of dignity and flopped down on the couch beside him. Her glass sloshed, and some of it spilled on her jumper, the grey wool darkening as the spill spread. She sat sideways, her feet touching his thigh as she turned to clean up her mess.

"Damn," she said, "'m a sloppy drunk,"

"You can't get drunk off of firewhiskey," James said, turning to face her. "Just buzzed, y' know?"

"When's the first time you got drunk?" she asked, balancing her glass on her knee.

"Well, there's a good question, Evans," he said, shifting in a way he hoped was effortless, pulling her feet onto his lap and revelling in the feeling of shocks up his spine. "Well, I suppose the first time I got well and truly smashed was at my parent's house. It was the Christmas hols in our fifth year, and Sirius had just, well—,"

"What happened to Sirius?"

James held a finger to his lips, and Lily smiled. "Marauder's secrets, Evans."

"Well, can't interfere with that, can I?"

"It went something like this," James said, turning his body towards her, fingers playing with a loose string in her stocking. "Remus found the stash of firewhiskey and Muggle spirits my parents had hidden behind the bar, we were celebrating, you see. Remus undid the spell and filled four glasses. I will say, however, that the hangover we had the next day was next to nothing."

"Didn't your parents have the hangover potion?"

"My parents are seventy-five years old, Evans. The last time they got good and thoroughly hammered was before I was born," James said. "It was nearly six months until we got drunk again, but that's a story for another time." James looked over at her, trying not to seem too obvious. But she was close, and her eyes still red, the little tears that gathered at the corners were drying. That was good, he thought. He could keep her talking. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"Fair is fair, Evans. When was the first time you got drunk?"

"I've never been drunk before."

"Nah, sure you have. Quidditch final in sixth year, everyone was drinking, yours truly scored eleven goals for Gryffindor. Now that's not something you're likely to forget."

"I remember, I'm just not one for drinking."

"Hm," James said, stretching his arms over his head, resting them over the top of the couch. "That's not what I expected you to say."

Lily shifted in her seat, sinking further into the cushions. The tips of her toes brushed the armrest of James' side of the couch, and she relished in the supposed intimacy of the moment. It was nice, comfortable. "What did you think I was going to say?"

James looked over at her, flushed and smiling and instead of saying what he would have a year ago _(I would've thought you had to be hammered to find yourself wrapped up in Arthur Cauterwal's arms),_ he took a deep breath and summoned a bit of courage. "I never knew you one to shy away from a crowd, is all."

"Just because I don't drink until I can't stand doesn't mean I'm not enjoying the company," she said, bemused.

"How about my company?" He asked.

Lily looked over at him, about this boy who had turned into a man before her eyes. He wasn't the person she had thought he was, perhaps he never was. He had matured tenfold since last spring, and Lily didn't quite know what to make of this new and improved James Potter, smiling like that at her.

"I do," Lily said, and James grinned. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Well," he said, putting his glass down on the table. Before he could overthink it, he pulled Lily's feet into his lap and began massaging her left foot with vigour, evoking a surprised squawk. "Company with me does have its perks."

"What are you doing?" Lily said, sitting up slightly, both hands braced behind her.

"Giving you a foot massage," _and simultaneously fulfilling every single one of his thirteen-year-old daydreams. _"What's it look like?"

"It looks like you're trying to seduce me,"

"Is it working?"

"Well," Lily said, her tone breathy and soft. "That's yet to be seen."

There was a pause. Not an uncomfortable one, but as time continued to pass, it was a pause that was spring-loaded, bursting with possibilities. James ran his hands over the arch of her foot, massaging the tension out of her ankles, the soles of her feet. If she allowed him to touch her at all, he wasn't about to turn down the opportunity, no matter how long it lasted. Lily looked pensive, lost in thought. A small part of him hoped that she was thinking of him, of what they were doing together. But it couldn't be; she was tense, not quite meeting his eye. There was something else, something more pressing. 

"What would you do?" Lily said, taking another drink and settling it on her lap. "If you were me?"

"What do you mean?"

"With my sister. You know most of that story. What would you do if you were in my shoes?"

"I've always wanted a sibling," James said, looking into the fire, hands fiddling with the hem of her left stocking. "I think when it came down to it, I would do anything to keep them in my life. Even if it wasn't in my best interest."

"She doesn't want me anymore."

"Do you believe her?"

Lily sniffed, "I'm not sure she's still the person I thought she was."

"Do you love her?"

Lily looked over as if considering her next move. "Yeah, I suppose I do. You never really stop loving sisters, even after the person you knew is gone. We were best friends growing up, she meant—well, she meant everything to me. It was magic that ruined everything. I was different, and she was ordinary, and she's resented me for it ever since."

"Well, I guess that's what we do for the people we love," James said, fighting to keep his gaze on her. "We love them even when we shouldn't."

Lily set her glass down on the table, and James' eyes burned with an intensity she struggled to face. She had dated before; she had even fallen in love once or twice. But this was something deep, something almost inevitable. James Potter was a flame she had been chasing for years, an infectious smile, brave and gentle; he was her ideal in the flesh. But he was also James Potter, the fool who had ruined her relationship with Severus, the James Potter who dated her best friend in fourth year, the James Potter who hexed whoever irritated him. Were they the same person? Could Lily ever fancy someone who had done the things he had?

He leaned forward, wishing and hoping she wouldn't turn away and Lily closed her eyes in bated breath. Her knees folded underneath of her, and his hands tangled in her hair. Lily sagged against him, gentle lips on her own, fingernails scratching gently at her scalp, behind her ears.

"We've been down this path so many times, James," Lily breathed, leaning her forehead against his. "How is this time going to be any different?"

"This _is_ different,"

"How?" Lily asked, pushing herself back into a sitting position. "James we need to—,"

"I love you,"

Lily sat open-mouthed, heart fluttering in a way she hadn't expected it to, perhaps had always known it would. "What?"

"I love you,"

"You couldn't possibly—,"

"No," James said, taking her hands in his own. Hers were so small, green polish and narrow fingers, and they looked so correct in his that he gripped them all the more. "No, you're wrong. I love you, Lily Evans. I have always loved you, maybe in ways that you couldn't understand, but don't you feel it? Don't you know deep inside how much I love you?"

"I—,"

James clutched at her desperately, his forehead resting against hers, heart lain bare at her feet. "My heart has always belonged to you,"

"James—,"

"If you don't, Lily, if you don't feel the same, at least I said it. I've loved you for seven years and will love you for the rest of my life. I've changed, truly I have. The war forces perspective, don't you see? I intend to fight, but I want you by my side. I've always wanted you by my side."

His fingers slip past her ears, thumbs resting on her temples, closer and closer than they had ever been before. A tear slipped past her eyelids, and James caught it on his thumb, kissed the trail it left behind.

"My sister doesn't love me," she whispered, "She and I will never again be as close as we, as we once were. She's lost to me, James."

"I know, love," he said. "I know, _God_, I know."

Another tear slipped past, and two chased it like raindrops, and before long, Lily Evans was encircled by him, arms wrapped like a safety net around her. She sobbed for what felt like hours. She cried for Petunia, the sister she had once been closer to than anybody, she cried for the family she had once had with her, the hopes and dreams she had once held for their relationship. She cried for the loss of someone still alive, for someone who had refused contact and communication. That bungalow in Cokeworth would never again be home without her sister there too, and her future was so uncertain. All sense of home was gone, now.

She was alone.

James rubbed circles on her back, whispered quiet, soothing nothings into her ear and held her as she cried. His heart broke for her, and he wished more than anything that he could take her pain away.

"Oh, Lily,"

"Please, don't pity me, please don't. I couldn't stand it."

James summoned a handkerchief from his dorm and held it out for her, hands bracing her to sit upright. His mother had embroidered _J.F.P_ on the corner in red thread, and it looked so perfect in her hands. She buried her face in the fabric, and James pulled her onto his lap, tucking her little body into his own.

"How can I help?" James whispered into her hair. "Tell me; there must be something I can do."

"Kiss me,"

"Evans—,"

"Kiss me, Potter,"

She didn't have to ask twice before his lips settled onto hers once again, hands tangled in his hair. He moved with vigour, and Lily kissed him again, twice, a third time. Kissing was a distraction from reality. Kissing meant she didn't have to think, didn't have to process. She was taking advantage of him, and she knew it, but somehow couldn't condone herself for her actions. Even with the wrong intentions, it felt _right; _she felt complete like she hadn't in years. Something had changed between them, and the air sparked with electricity.

"_God_, Lily, if you'd known how many times I dreamed about you like this," James whispered, peppering kisses on her cheekbones, forehead, the hollow of her throat. "I've dreamt about kissing you for years,"

Lily chased him, arms reaching behind his neck, scratching at the strong muscles of his back, his neck. She needed him like she needed life itself, and here he was like a miracle in front of her. He was offering himself up to her, saying that he loved her, that he had always loved her, that he would never leave. It was a balm on her heart, a release from the emotional strain of an absentee sister and parents suspended in the dark. It was too much, too much all at once.

James held her forearms and brought them away from his hair, eyes trained away from hers. Her body was stiff, uncompromising, her kisses desperate and uncoordinated. She reached for him, but he leant away, even though it broke his heart. What they were doing wasn't right; it was the wrong time for the wrong reasons. He had behaved like a fool; she didn't love him; she'd used him.

"Goodnight, Evans," he said and walked towards the boy's dorms, not expecting a response and not receiving one in return.


	2. For Wheat is Wheat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their disastrous first kiss, James busies himself in his new job as Head Boy and N.E.W.T studies to avoid talking to Lily altogether, although things don't go exactly according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for this chapter comes from the Van Gogh quote, and all credit goes to him  
“If I am worth anything later, I am worth something now. For wheat is wheat, even if people think it is a grass in the beginning.”

_Monday, 26th September 1977_

_..._

Over the next few days, James tried his utmost to steer clear of Lily, of her friends, her hobbies, the spaces she was wont to occupy. He was sorry for it, but the relative easiness they had achieved with one another had been snuffed out and extinguished with vigour. James tried to forget the way her lips had felt underneath his own, how _willing_ she had been, how far they could've gone had he not had the good sense to think it through. With the addition of Head Boy duties and his role as Quidditch captain, James' workload had increased significantly; and it was easy enough to avoid Lily Evans if he tried hard enough.

The last full moon had been difficult for all, appearing suddenly through the tall windows of the Charms classroom. James caught the eye of Sirius and Peter and followed at a run as Remus tore to the doorway. It had been so many years of suffering, and with no end in sight, the Marauders had seen him through every transformation since they had met nearly six years previously. Remus made it past the Whomping Willow in just the nick of time, narrowly missing a first-year flying lesson and a gaggle of fifth-year Hufflepuffs lounging under their beech tree beside the loch. James' transformation into Prongs was seamless; the extension of his body felt natural, effortless.

Sirius had already transformed, his snout sniffing the air, apparently transfixed on something or another. Prongs knelt, and with his antlers, reached towards Peter to allow the rat to take hold, balanced between Prongs' ears.

The three of them followed a familiar path towards the entrance of the Whomping Willow. They ducked as Peter dove towards the knot in the wood, immobilizing the tree, and the trio entered the tunnel. James wiggled through, and Sirius followed the roaring echo of Lupin just beyond.

James' heart clenched at the sight, not a new one, but never easy to see. Moony's skin was stretched painfully over his frame, eyes wild and uncomprehending of what he saw. The shack, as always, was abandoned and bare. The grand piano was glossy in the light as it filtered through the slits in the walls, the boards thin and decrepit. The noise of Moony's roars was immense, and James knew that the howls of his friend had reached the castle. May the legend of the haunting of the Shrieking Shack live forever.

Sirius raised his haunches and growled as Lupin swiped with one claw towards him, and Peter took off towards his feet, his claws raised for the attack. James took the lead, as he usually did, distracting Remus while the others worked to immobilize him. James lowered his antlers and bellowed, charging with speed, successfully pinning Remus to the wall. He could feel Padfoot below him, pushing his body weight against Remus' legs as he attempted to move. Moony headbutted James strongly enough to see stars, and his back feet trembled and shifted backward an inch or two.

Below him, James could feel the rat Pettigrew jumping over his hooves, and by the sharp yip Lupin let loose, had bitten him. With a powerful kick, Padfoot was tossed aside, one of his feet twisted at a funny angle. James pushed harder, spinning with his antlers to immobilize his friend, hoping beyond belief that he wasn't hurting him, but knowing that he was. It was for his protection, and more than once, Remus had thanked him for it. God knows what would happen if he escaped.

Wormtail bit Remus again, and the werewolf howled in pain, ducking beneath James' antlers to swipe at the rat between his paws. He missed, thank God, and Peter ran towards Sirius while James managed Lupin.

His teeth were savage, sharp and jagged where they had broken on impact, and James ducked to avoid them. A single bite, anything that broke the skin, had detrimental and permanent consequences. While more protected in their Animagus forms, even animals were vulnerable to the bite of a werewolf. It couldn't make them change, but none of them wanted to take that chance.

Out of the corner of his eye, James noticed that Padfoot had risen to his feet, and he stood in front of Lupin, making sure that Padfoot and Wormtail were still behind him. Each of them did their part to protect Remus from injuring himself, but Prongs was the biggest and most capable, and thusly took the brunt of the attack. He knew that Sirius wished he could do more, but there were limits that a dog (even a large dog, as was Padfoot) could do against a twenty stone werewolf. He didn't mind, and the strength training he had done over the years as a Chaser had helped Prongs as well, strengthened his back, added muscle to his legs and power to his run. He was no longer the fawn he was in fifth year, James had grown and adapted. They all had.

Behind him, he could hear Padfoot growling, Peter doing that squeak thing he thought was intimidating (it wasn't) and could distract Lupin (it didn't), and James was glad to hear them. The effort of keeping Moony from hurting himself was enough to focus on. Over the years, they had developed several strategies as a team to immobilize Moony, and James recognized the stance Padfoot had taken. When he heard his paws bounding from behind him, Prongs leapt out of the way as Padfoot threw Lupin to the ground and pushed with all his strength to keep him stationary.

In their Animagus forms, none of them could grip, so where Padfoot took one arm, Prongs took the other, resting his weight on Lupin's belly and lower legs. Pettigrew scratched and bit where he could reach around Lupin's head, avoiding the mouth as he dodged and ran.

A midday transformation usually didn't last long, an hour at the most, and James could see the shadows lengthening on the floorboards, hoping that the clouds would soon hide the moon.

Below his feet, Prongs could feel Lupin slump and fall limp and knew that the slow transformation back into a human had begun. Padfoot collapsed onto his side, exhausted, and James did the same, concentrating on turning back himself.

Before long, the four of them lay on the floorboards, breathing heavily and in their right minds. Remus took a shuddering gasp and tucked his limbs into his body, silent tears running down his cheeks. Sirius, back in human form, limped towards a closet in the corner, pulled a woollen blanket out and hung it over Remus' back. Peter pulled Lupin into a firm hug, and Sirius moved behind him, rubbing Remus' back.

James moved towards the piano, pulling out his wand and a large bottle of Dittany mixed with powdered silver and held out the dropper with shaking hands.

"Did anybody get scratched?"

Sirius shook his head, rolling his ankle with a grimace on his face.

"I didn't either," Peter said, tucking the blanket further around Remus. "Close, but he missed. Glad he missed."

"I'm so sorry," Remus murmured, leaning back into Sirius' arms.

"You know it wasn't your fault, Moony," Sirius said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind Lupin's ear. "Don't ever think it was your fault."

"It's not like it's something you can control," James agreed, stoppering the bottle and Vanishing it, falling into the heap himself.

"It was bad, this time," Remus whispered, tugging. "My bones ache, I—I feel like I'm two people in the same body. The monster and the man, and sometimes it's hard to tell which one I am, who I _really_ am."

They sat in silence for a minute, their breath loud and uneven in the sudden stillness. Remus had been a werewolf for near on eleven years, whomever he might have been having not been bitten was a mystery, unknown to all of them but especially himself. The werewolf Lupin was unresponsive, vicious and blind with bloodlust. Even with him and the others helping as Animagi, it would never be enough to cure him, to halt his transformations. He was uncurable a monster in a man, neither one more than the other for the rest of his life.

"Well, I can tell you who you are, in the case that you've forgotten," Sirius said, Summoning another blanket and pulling it over Remus' form with a gentleness not noticeably apparent to be congruent with his character. They shared a smile, and James' heart tugged at the sight, the way they looked at the other for perhaps a moment too long, their fingertips dancing as they gripped the same edge of the blanket. "You're a lanky bastard named Remus John Lupin,"

"You have too many jumpers," Pettigrew added, an arm tossed over his eyes. "You couldn't possibly need as many jumpers as you have,"

"That so, Wormtail?" Remus said, his breath slower than it was a moment before, a smile tugging at his lips. "I can't see you complaining when the weather turns,"

"It's true, and you know it," Sirius said, curling his fingers in Remus' hair, pulling his head onto his chest. "Even Evans borrows your jumpers, and she's an ice queen. And to top it all off, you swear like a fucking sailor,"

"Least I'm not up and down all night," Remus said, laying a week hand on James' head, and they all laughed. "More animal than man applies to you more than me, so it seems,"

"That's alright," James said dreamily, resting his head on Sirius' belly, while Lupin rubbed his head with the tips of his nails. "Perfect, now that's the good stuff."

Peter looked over at Sirius. "How's the foot?"

"Ah, not bad," he said, rolling his left ankle back and forth. "It's always a gamble, being a dog. Never quite sure where an injury might land when one transforms."

James lazily lifted his wand, pointing it at his ankle, and after a quick healing charm was right as rain. Sirius sighed and crossed his arms behind his chest, and Remus pulled in, moving closer.

"I hope we'll always be friends," Remus said quietly. "I don't know what I'd do without you three."

"More than friends, with any luck," Sirius said, and Remus jabbed him in the ribs.

"Always and forever, I solemnly swear," James said, miming crossing his heart.

"To be up to no good, or just in the general sense?" Remus asked.

"Eh," James said. "Depends on the circumstance."

...

"Birds keeping you up all night, Potter?"

James waved his hand in acknowledgment and rested his head on his forearm, taking a huge bite of buttered toast. Sirius sat beside him, his hair uncombed and missing his tie. Out of all the Marauders, Peter was looking the best, cognitive enough, at least, to drink a cup of coffee before rousing his friends for class. Remus was still recovering in the Hospital Wing. James groaned and pushed his glasses up his nose, the Great Hall just beginning to clear out for the morning.

"Never knew your girlfriend to be a screamer, Yaxley," James said, standing with a groan. "And yet here we are,"

"Here we are, indeed," Yaxley said, pulling a book bag from underneath the Slytherin table. "I watched your practice the night before last. You've more talent than I realized,"

"Lots of things you've underestimated about me,"

"Seems so, Potter," Yaxley said, appraising him with a muted sort of praise, straightened his tie and walked down and out of the Great Hall. James raised an eyebrow and took another sip of coffee while watching him leave, trying to ignore the funny feeling in his gut.

"What was that about?" Sirius asked after Yaxley left, tucking his wand in his back pocket.

"I don't know," James said, narrowing his eyes at the blond ponytail as it receded down the hallway.

"Cauterwal's looking mighty glum this morning," Peter noticed, taking a leap-step to catch up with the long legs of James and Sirius. "Did Lily finally break up with him?"

James strained his neck and looked over to where Lily stood with her friend Mary Macdonald, her eyes red and downcast. Feeling her gaze on him, James quickly turned his head, feigning direct interest in whatever Sirius was saying.

"Head's in the clouds, Prongs," Sirius said, bracing both hands on James' shoulders, turning him towards the group. "Since when do you care what Evans' does?"

"I don't," James said a might too quickly, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Right," Sirius said, "because that's apparent in the way you think and act."

Peter stood between the pair of them, his watery eyes fixing on both Sirius and James as if they were engaged in a high stakes tennis match and not a conversation in the Great Hall about Lily Evans. After a minute, Sirius cracked a grin and bumped shoulders with James, who rolled his eyes in response.

"C'mon, Quoron will have my hide if I'm late again,"

Peter scoffed. "As if. You could never go to Defence again, and that dunce would still speak nothing but praise at your impeccable shield charms."

Sirius and Peter laughed, but James tried his best not to look over to where he knew Lily was. He didn't regret his declaration from the other night; it felt good to have his thoughts out in the open. But the ache resulting from her actions strengthened his resolve to ignore her. If she wanted to talk about it, she'd have to bring it about.

...

Defence Against the Dark Arts was dull, and the sun pouring in from the windows made James feel dozy and stupid. Beside him, Sirius tapped the feather of his quill against the back of Alex Hornby's neck, which was causing the dunce dance in his seat like he had an invisible itch. Peter was hiding his laugh behind his textbook, which had been propped with this intention in mind. Still, like a clock, Paisley Quoron, the dullest teacher to ever teach D.A.D.A, droned on and on about Unforgiveable curses while James struggled to stay awake.

They had been out with Lupin for most of yesterday afternoon well into the night. If anyone noticed that they were missing for the rest of the day, they made no mention of it in the morning. Maybe, if they were very fortunate, nobody cared.

"Potter," Hornby's seatmate, Allyson, whispered. James stirred and accepted a folded bit of parchment from her hand and watched Quoron carefully before opening it.

"Who's it from, mate?" Sirius asked, finally setting his quill down.

"Dunno," James answered, looking around the classroom to see who might have sent it. It was public knowledge that James had broken up with his girlfriend at the end of last year, but he didn't see the possibility that any of the girls in his class fancied him. The parchment had been folded with care, the edges worn and smudged with ink. The writing was one he recognized, and he read it with a groan. "Lily's calling a meeting for the Prefects, and I have to be there."

"Tough luck, mate," Sirius said with a grin, "maybe instead of thinking well of you, Dumbledore just wanted to give you more work." He leaned over James' shoulder and let out a bark-like laugh, "You'll have to reschedule Quidditch practice," he said, circling the date presented with his finger, patting the back of James' head absentmindedly as he sunk his forehead onto the desk.

"That bird is gonna kill me,"

"Anything to share with the assembled body, gentlemen?" Quoron said from the front of the class, his nasal tone causing an outbreak of giggles.

"Of course not, professor," Sirius said with a great deal of dignity. "Please, carry on."

Quoron looked back at Sirius as if he had expected a different response. Instead, he let out of a satisfying sort of breath and continued about the dangers of the Cruciatus curse to the mind of its victim.

...

Midday hit, and the Marauders were rejoined by Remus in the Great Hall, who other than looking worn and tired was much the same as he always was. James patted him on the back with a smile and tucked into a steak and kidney pie.

Outside, the weather was mild, a gentle breeze with puffy clouds. James supposed it might rain later, but in the days leading up to the full moon, he wished for nothing but overcast skies. While it didn't alleviate his friends' lycanthropy, it minimized the jump scare of a sudden lunar appearance. Remus was looking haggard, wasn't eating very much. James had made the mistake of completing Lupin's half-finished transfiguration essay early that morning, working a clever little charm to make his handwriting look closer to Remus'. He had paid for it, though. There weren't many people at Hogwarts who knew about Lupin's furry little problem, and those who didn't know the extent the Marauders had gone to help their friend through his transformations.

He knew what they were doing was illegal, knew that this had to have a more permanent solution than transforming into Animagi, but there was nothing to be done. Lycanthropy was permanent; there wasn't a cure, and Remus would suffer for the rest of his life. This much was inevitable, and yet the facts didn't help James' conscience. So every once in a while, when Remus didn't notice, the Marauders picked up the slack. It was the least they could do, and it was inevitable that their professors would catch on before long. McGonagall had asked him to stay after class, and after waving his friends out of the classroom, he walked up to her alone.

McGonagall had always been his favourite professor, and truth be told, she reminded him a bit of his mother. All tight lips and Scottish belligerence. She and James were opposites, and he took to her instantly.

"Doing another student's homework is cheating, Potter," she said after class, Summoning a piece of parchment from her desk and letting it fall to her desk. "This is not Lupin's work."

"Professor, he wrote most of it," James said, tracing his finger to where Remus had left an incomplete thought, directing her to how little he had done. "He had fallen asleep; he hasn't slept in days. It was the least I could do."

McGonagall looked down at him over the rim of her spectacles, and James sighed, sat up a little higher. "The full moon came in the middle of Charms yesterday; he was up all night."

"I know," she said, sitting down at her desk. "Professor Flitwick told me."

There was a pause, and James shifted his feet, watching his professor in the eye. She, like most of the faculty, was at least aware of Lupin's condition, but McGonagall had provided opportunities for Remus others had not, and James respected her for it.

"I am touched by all that you do for your friends, Potter," she said, and James braced for the punishment she could deliver. He had yet to get off easy with McGonagall, and he doubted that it would begin now. She paused, and James waited in anxious anticipation. "But to be clear, I do not condone your actions. Had this essay been submitted to another teacher, you would likely be receiving a different result. However, it would be in poor taste to have our Head Boy in detention every week, so do try to be a touch more inconspicuous in the future, will you?"

James smiled, pushing his bookbag further up his shoulder. "Thanks, professor."

"See to it that Lupin rests; he's been pushing himself too hard."

"'Course,"

"And Potter?"

James turned around, and McGonagall sighed, removed her spectacles. "Lily has called the first meeting of the Prefects, do try and work together in the future. You are Heads together; keep in mind."

James nodded, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Good," she said, and James walked down the hallway and out of sight.

...

The rest of the afternoon passed with little incident, with the new N.E.W.T. class progressing through Potions, Care of Magical Creatures and a double Herbology before the school day finished. James sighed, his book bag bulging with more homework than ever before. If he pushed all night long, James reckoned he'd be able to finish his Potions essay before the end of tonight if he was lucky.

Sirius joined him in the Common Room, his books under his arm. "What're you starting with?"

"Potions, I reckon," James said, shifting his books on the coffee table. The room was loud but no louder than usual on a school night. Students milled about a game of Exploding Snap in the corner, and the group laughed as a cloud of smoke engulfed them. 

James pulled his quill out of his bag and set the ink in front of him when suddenly struck with another memory of this spot. It had been on this sofa that Lily had snogged the living daylights out of him two days ago. He shifted uncomfortably, trying and failing to remember the way her lips had moved against his own, the feeling of her thigh to thigh, chest to chest, closer than closer they could be to one another.

He hadn't told the others about his nighttime escapade with Lily. One, it was none of their business what he did (and perhaps wanted to and didn't) with anyone, but particularly not her. Two, he was ashamed, profoundly and truly ashamed for what he had done and didn't want the others to know how badly he had mucked it up. Who was he to kiss her after she had just lost the relationship with her sister? How could he have taken advantage of her like that? Had he pushed her beyond what she was comfortable with because it was good for him? Good _God._

"Ah, those were the days," Peter said, sitting across from them, his books in a state of disarray. He looked at James in a way that gave him a reason to pause. "Don't you have the Prefect meeting tonight, Prongs?"

James' heart stopped, his face growing paler by the moment. "Oh _shit_," he said, bounding up out of his seat. "Lily's gonna murder me!" He dropped his quill and bounded out of the portrait hole, Sirius and Peter laughing behind him.

James tried his best to muss up his hair, the humidity around the castle nearly unbearable for how much it had rained earlier in the month. Here he was, James Potter, running down the halls to the abandoned classroom on the fifth floor for a meeting he had not planned and knew nothing about. James tucked behind a portrait on the seventh-floor landing and appeared three doors down from the meeting place, and tucked the map in his back pocket. He checked his watch and breathed a sigh of relief. He still had three minutes to make peace with Lily before twenty-three prats showed up who knew this job better than he did.

To his relief, upon opening the door, only a few people were present, a handful of fifth and sixth year Hufflepuffs and two Ravenclaw fifth years sitting in the front row. Lily was over beside the desk, a handful of papers in neat piles.

"Good of you to show," Lily said icily, not looking up as he approached. "Since you have no experience as a Prefect, I thought I'd take the liberty to lead the first meeting of the year."

"That's, uh," James cleared his throat, shifting his feet in embarrassment. He could see the other Prefects watching them with curiosity, and he turned away. "That's kind of you,"

Lily _harrumphed_, turning her back on him, her long hair swinging as she turned. She had always smelled good, girls usually did, but something was different about her, and the way her hair turned colour in the light— "I'll call this meeting to order," Lily said, standing in front of the group with a clipboard and James walked over to meet her. "Please take your seats; we'll begin in a moment."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Moony enter the classroom, sitting beside the other Gryffindor's. Remus passed him a look of pity, and James rolled his eyes at this turn of events. Before the meeting, Remus had grilled him on how Prefect meetings go, what was expected and frowned upon, and how best to get on Evans' good side. But this had been before, and Lily wasn't even meeting his eye. How was he supposed to lead when he wasn't allowed to help?

The room filled as the clock struck eight, and twenty-three expectant pairs of eyes fixed themselves on him. James had an uncomfortable recollection of the very first Prefect meeting on the train and deigned that tonight would not be a repeat. He could try harder, if not for himself, then certainly for Dumbledore, whose sanity had been questioned more than once when he appointed James to Head Boy. He had been flattered, sure, but he knew that others had deserved it more than he had.

Lily cleared her throat and begun the meeting, starting first with rounds. She reminded everyone that the school was still under threat from dark wizards and witches alike, and being aware of people who didn't belong was a new responsibility for the Prefects.

"Dumbledore would like to inform you all that Aurors will take up a new post around Hogsmeade and the Hogwarts grounds themselves in the coming weeks until our knowledge of You Know Who's whereabouts are known. Familiarize yourself with them, but keep your distance."

There was a gentle murmur, and Lily raised her hand for silence. "As the new Head Boy and Girl," she said, gesturing vaguely to James' right. "We will do our best to keep you updated on things as they happen, but our most important job is to stay calm and let the Aurors do their jobs."

A fifth-year Slytherin whose name escaped him, (something with an R?) raised her hand and stood. "I heard a rumour that Hogsmeade weekends might be cancelled, is that true?"

"Excellent question, Ruby," Lily said, sitting on the edge of the desk, placing her clipboard next to her, which happened to be on James' fingers. "It's true that until we can be sure that Hogsmeade is safe, weekend trips are cancelled."

Now that drew a reliable reaction. Was the outside world that dangerous? There hadn't been a Death Eater attack in over six months, but James could feel the tension in the room, it was palpable. People were deathly afraid of what Voldemort could do at any given moment.

"On that unpleasant note, I have one last piece of news to share," Lily said, leaning forward slightly, "Dumbledore and the other teachers are concerned about the danger of Quidditch—,"

"What?" James said outraged. Why hadn't she told him? She knew all this time and hadn't told him? "You can't cancel Quidditch!"

"I said _might_, Potter," Lily said with furrowed eyebrows. "It's for everyone's safety; perhaps it's for the best,"

"For the best?" He said, coming closer to her, folding his arms in front of his chest. "What do you know? You can't even fly a broom!"

There was a snicker from somewhere behind her, and Lily shot it down with a scathing look. "Maybe if you weren't so occupied on the here and now you could see the big picture!"

"What big picture? What does that have to do with cancelling Quidditch?"

"Enough!" Lily exclaimed, jumping off of the desk, standing nearly a foot shorter than him. She raised her chin and stared him down, but James refused. First, Lily wouldn't talk to him, then she used him, and now she was cancelling Quidditch? Was she mad? "Enough, I won't hear another word."

"You won't? Or you refuse to? I never pegged you as a coward, Evans,"

"What does cowardice have to do with anything? I'm telling you Dumbledore's—,"

"Alright!" Remus said, standing up and facing the Prefects, who were watching the spectacle before them with rapt attention. "You lot are dismissed, go on, you know what you're to do."

Obediently, the Prefects filed out of the classroom, furtively sneaking looks at James and Lily, who were shooting daggers at each other.

"The hell is wrong with you two?" Remus asked, looking aghast.

"Ask her," James said, folding his arms and trying not to look as guilty as he felt.

"I'm asking you," Remus said, turning to face James. "Which is fair, because you're the one who started it,"

"Started it? I didn't start it!"

"You sure didn't end it," Remus said. "C'mon, apologize, then you can go,"

James exhaled forcefully, facing Lily with a look of feigned sympathy, offering a hand to shake. "My most sincere apologies, Evans, for my truly atrocious behaviour,"

Lily stamped her foot, and without a word, leaving all her things behind tore for the door.


	3. Pay My Repects to Grace and Virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions continue to rise as gossip flies throughout the castle, and Lily and James struggle to see eye to eye on how things have changed since their kiss Saturday last. One full week later, the one person Lily tried to keep this from finds out, and not in the way she intended.

**Pay my respects to grace and virtue**   
**Send my condolences to good**   
**Give my regards to soul and romance**   
**They always did the best they could**   
**And so long to devotion**   
**You taught me everything I know**   
**Wave goodbye, wish me well**

**-Human, the Killers**

... 

The next few days swirled with busyness as James moved from one thing to another with increasing pressure. He spent every evening hovering over textbooks and was still behind the next morning, despite Peter's best efforts to keep him on top of things. The first (second, now, he supposed) Quidditch practice was coming up quickly, and he still had to make a plan for their first game against Slytherin two weeks from now.

But what bothered him perhaps more than the rest, was that despite his efforts to push back his shame and embarrassment from that night in the Common Room, Lily was still angry with him.

Why was a mystery to him. He was sorry for how he fought with her in front of the Prefects, but it had done little to quell the deep ache of what? Love? Lust? Longing? God knows, he thought, but it was something, and it ached all the more when she was around. He had done nothing but be a gentleman, and thinking back on it; she would've had her way with him had he let her. He could've shagged Lily Evans that night, and he was the noble prat who had turned her away.

James banged his head against his desk as Sirius measured out the infusion of wormwood with a steady hand. Slughorn was somewhere on the other end of the classroom, and he knew he had another minute or so of self-loathing left before he came waddling by again. James didn't care much for Slughorn, he was a fair professor, but he couldn't abide by people who used connections to make their way to the top. People should advance by merit, who cares what other people think of you?

Lily was in the potions N.E.W.T class too, and she and Marlene McKinnon hovered over their cauldrons some distance away. By just looking at his best mate, James knew that Sirius knew that he was avoiding her, but James hadn't told any of them the full story, only bits and pieces where it was relevant. James knew Sirius too well to believe that he hadn't pieced it together. James had been chasing Lily for too long for a sudden switch in tone to escape Sirius' notice, hell, half the school probably knew something had happened. James had never been particularly good at hiding his emotions.

"Fuck," Sirius said under his breath, his bottle of wormwood dripping down the side of his cauldron. "That didn't go well," 

"Gross," James said, grimacing at the scent of it. Wormwood always turned his stomach. "That shite's disgusting. I'll get some more."

Remus snorted at Sirius' clumsiness as James turned around, and he smiled. He was lucky indeed to have friends as he did. Not many others could say the same. James turned about, intending to go to the ingredients cupboard when Lily turned the corner, holding a half-melted wooden spoon in her hand. James smiled at the look of disgust on her face and smothered it into a cough when he caught her eye. They stared at one another for what felt like a small eternity when she moved closer to him. Did she, could she—

"You're blocking my way,"

"What?" James said.

"To the cupboard, I need more root of Asphodel,"

"Oh,"

"Yes, _oh_," Lily said, tossing the spoon in the rubbish bin. James mussed up his hair just for something to do as if it could pull some of the tension away. He wished that things could go back to the way they were, back before _that_, back before he somehow put his tongue down her throat and his foot in his mouth simultaneously. Everything had been so easy, full of playful touches and meaningful glances. He knew that he had fucked up, but he was unsure as to what she was angry about. The snogging? The touching? The way he had stopped her?

Lily took a step forward, and James pulled to the side to let her pass, but he couldn't help looking at her. She was wearing pearl earrings, and the curl of her ear reminded him of when he kissed her just there. From his vantage point, James could see some sort of abrasion, a red mark just below her collar that looked suspiciously like, like—

"What, exactly, are you staring at me for?"

"Nothing,"

"Well, shove over then, will you?"

James leaned forward, trying his damndest to keep his hands from shaking but not succeeding. It was Evans, just another bird in a long string of girlfriends. She was no different than any of the others. But it _was_, and he couldn't seem to get his head and his heart on the same page.

"Can we talk? Please? In private?"

"No," Lily said a little quickly, and James' heart sank to his feet. "You've made your position on the matter clear."

"I think there's been a misunderstanding—,"

"The only thing I've misunderstood was how you felt about me, and I think that it's time we both moved on,"

He watched as she pushed past him, walking towards the cupboard, and when she walked past him again, there was no mistaking the little tears in her eyes. 

...

Potions class ended a few minutes early, Helen Grimsby's draught of living death caught fire and promptly exploded a sticky lavender goo all over the classroom. So the class, slightly giddy with their good fortune, left en masse towards their respective Common Rooms.

Much as she regretted it, Lily watched out of the corner of her eyes as James, Remus and Sirius tided their things and walked down the hall, laughing at one thing or another. Even from where she stood, she could feel James' eyes on her as he turned the corner. Lily shut down any emotions she had towards him, to no avail. So instead, she watched as he walked away.

He was angry at her, indignant, and with good reason. She had been an idiot to think that he would consent to how she had behaved some days ago, so she hadn't asked. So she had abandoned reason and dove deep into repressed desires, and it wasn't until she woke the next morning that she regretted, deeply regretted what she had done. She had used and abused him, tapped into the love she knew was there, deep in his heart, and exploited it. She must've been crazy for thinking it would end like that, one snogging session to bind her over until her insecurities about her sister had passed for good.

They wouldn't; she knew that now. She would always love her sister, foolhardy as that may be, and James Potter would most likely still fancy her. She wasn't some aloof flirt, at least she didn't think she was. No, she was a creature of habit, and her practice as of late was one of avoiding uncomfortable situations altogether.

Classes continued with increasing intensity, and the workload had only increased since the year had begun. Lily's N.EW.T.'s hovered somewhere in the distance, frightening and imposing over the day-to-day. Even Charms, her old tried and true, was especially tricky, the nuances of the complicated spells expected of a seven-year course increased her workload significantly. She hadn't called a Prefect meeting since the first rather disastrous one at the end of September and didn't intend to plan the next one. If James Potter designed to serve as Head Boy, it was up to him to step up to the plate, as it were. She knew he was busy, too; he was captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team in addition to his seven N.E.W.T. courses, two more than what she was taking.

But this was her last year at Hogwarts, and that fact stared her straight in the face as she walked through the hallway. She only had nine more months of school, and then what? Get a job? Get married? What was waiting for her at the end of her Hogwarts school days? She knew many of her friends intended to lie low until the war ended, perhaps go abroad, to Australia or America, but Lily couldn't think of a place she would be happier than in England, in a world she knew and understood. Perhaps she could get a cottage somewhere, write that novel she had dreamed about, drink tea and paint landscapes and what? Wait until the war was over? No, that wasn't an option either. If it came down to it, she'd do what she could to protect her friends and family from You Know Who and the Death Eaters. 

The halls were crowded between periods, and Lily slipped through a throng of third-years with relative ease on her way to the Common Room. She had a free period (thank Merlin) and intended to use it to finish a particularly bothersome Potions essay she had meant to finish the night before. As Lily settled herself into her favourite squashy armchair before the hearth, she tried to push past the thought that this was the same essay that James had been working on before the event. That's how she was classifying it in her brain_, the event_ as if to distance it from any emotional ties or romantic inklings. And what an event it was, she thought, sucking the tip of her quill thoughtfully, the way his back tensed beneath her fingers, the way his hands fiddled and reached, the way that they _lingered_, damn it, hovering over her skin before kissing her. She wasn't drunk, but the way she behaved might make it look that way. He had been rather enthusiastic, now that she thought about it, and the way his body moved against her own had left for some pretty daydreams. 

"Want some company, Evans?"

She looked up, slightly startled, at the lovely and familiar face of Remus Lupin staring up at her; his bookbag tossed over a shoulder.

"You're not taking Divination, either?" she said, trying to compose herself, tugging the end of the quill out of her mouth.

"Nah," he said, settling himself on the chair opposite, pulling his things out. "Sirius and James are taking it for the laughs, I suppose. It's an easy enough course if you see it that way, but I'll take a free period where I can,"

"I'm much the same," Lily said, letting out a sort of nervous laugh. "I'm rubbish at seeing the future."

Remus toed off his shoes and wiggling his toes in front of the fire, leaning over to see what she was working on. "Ah, that's better. So Potions? Care to help a fellow out?"

"I suppose I could be persuaded," 

"Well, if nothing else, you should pity me," Remus said, dipping his quill in an inkpot. "And lately, I've been finding that pity can reach farther than most things," 

"I don't mind helping," Lily said, and Remus smiled. 

"Excellent, because I don't mind being helped, so we're perfect partners," 

Lily pulled out a stack of parchment that Slughorn had loaned her, and for the next hour, they had pieced together two fairly convincing essays about the dangers of a misbrewed Draught of Living Death. 

"Thank Merlin for these notes," Remus said as he flipped a page appreciatively. "What'd you do? Flutter your eyes, and he emptied his cupboard? 

Lily rolled her eyes. "He likes me, is all," 

"And it helps, I think, that he thinks you're the most talented witch he's ever come into contact with."

Lily waved her hand dismissively and flipped open her new Potions textbook. "The only reason I succeeded before was because Sev helped me. Now it just comes from practice."

"Practice and a good deal of skill," Remus said. "I think good ole' Slug thought you were pulling his leg when you told him you were Muggleborn."

"I'd like to think he doesn't care about things like that," 

"It's like you don't know him at all, Lils!" Remus said with a laugh. "The man only gives a leg up if he thinks you've got something for him in return." 

"There's something to that, I suppose," Lily said evenly. "Sometimes, I wish...I wish that everyone was equal, and we didn't have to base our opinions on something that nobody can control. It's unfair," 

"It's reality," Remus said, shrugging. 

"You don't choose your parentage."

"No," Remus said. "I wish that had been the case; it would make life less complicated."

"What do you mean?" Lily asked, her eyebrows furrowed. "I thought you had a good relationship with your family."

"My father taunted a werewolf, Lils; it's the only reason that I am what I am.

"Oh," 

"Yeah," he said, and then looked at her strangely. 

"What?" 

"Oh, it's just, I had supposed that James had told you. Now that the two of you are so _cozy," _

"No, we're not," Lily said, feeling her face flush in embarrassment. God, did he know? 

"Families are complicated, and Slughorn is a pushover," Remus said, watching her out of the corner of his eye. "And hey, look at it this way. You'll always have a family in us; we can be a family together once this mess is over with."

An odd swoop fell over her. While Lupin had meant well, a family with the Marauders had never been one she had contemplated before. She was good friends with Remus, and congenial with the others, but a notion of a family with James sent her nerves fluttering in quite a different way than it had with the others. Being friends after Hogwarts, maybe even closer than friends.

Lily shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, and looked over at Remus, his fingers absentmindedly tracing a new scar from his most recent transformation.

"Does it hurt terribly?" Lily said quietly.

"Beyond comprehension," he said. "They make it better, though. Better than I thought it ever could be."

Lily sat up, dipping her quill with more force than perhaps necessary. "I can't believe that they're illegal Animagi—,"

Remus covered her mouth with his hand, and Lily wiggled out of his grip. "Wanna maybe keep your voice down?"

"Remus!"

"Evans!" He said, with equal vigour. "It's a secret! A secret that has to _stay_ secret! God even knows why James told you,"

"He didn't tell me," she said, trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart. "I saw you remember? Middle of the night in fifth year, a stag, dog, and rat transforming back into boys in front of my eyes, laughing and yelling. I didn't see you at first."

"Thank God for that,"

"You know what I mean," Lily said, leaning back into the cushions. "It was brave, I mean it's complicated magic, bloody easy to get wrong,"

"They started the process in second year, did I ever tell you that?"

"No!" Lily said, looking aghast. "That's one of the most complicated spells you can do, and they were learning about it at twelve?"

"I think Pads was thirteen,"

"You're on crack,"

"Nah, just pot. But you'd know all about that, wouldn't you Evans?"

Lily scoffed, purposefully ignoring Lupin as he smirked at her. "Schoolwork, though," Lily said.

"Schoolwork it is,"

...

The sun had long since set as the seventh year Gryffindor girls got ready for bed. Lily's cat Grimm jumped off the windowsill as Alice lit another cigarette, shooing the cat away from the treacle tarts Marlene had snuck in from the kitchen. It was half-eleven, and although all the girls except Amelia had abandoned books for the night. Lily scooted over on her bed, and Grimm leaped up beside her, purring loudly under her ministrations.

Marlene ran a brush through her hair, the curls getting tangled about the bristles as Lily slipped a jumper over her shoulders. It was getting late, and a storm raged outside their windows, rain pelting the windows. The wind cut through the cracks in the window frames, but a month prior, Amelia had cast a clever little charm to keep the cold out and away.

"We should leave a note for the elves to fix that, y' know," Lily said, sitting cross-legged on her bed. Grimm, bored of the fuss, wiggled himself out of her arms and scurried under her bed.

"It has to be said, Lils," Mary said, perched on her bed. "And I love you, don't get me wrong, but that is the ugliest cat to walk the face of the earth,"

Marlene laughed, and the rest of the girls followed suit as Lily scowled. "He was alone; nobody wanted to buy him! Maybe if you didn't lock him in wardrobes quite so much, he'd like you more."

"It's late, ladies," Amelia said, fluffing her pillow and toeing off her slippers. "And unless you have something important worth saying, perhaps it can wait until morning?"

"Well, I don't know about you lot, but wanna hear the full juicy tale of how Lily snogged James Potter Saturday last in the Common Room under our very noses!" Marlene said conspiratorially, to the gasps of her dorm mates.

Lily's heart dropped, people had seen? Did people know?

"Well," Amelia said sensibly. "Did you?"

"I most certainly did not!"

"Did too! Mary's mate Eileen saw you, and couldn't keep her little mouth shut, nosy."

"I just can't believe it!" Alice exclaimed.

"I did _not_ snog James!"

"Since when is he, James, Lils? He was nothing but a bullying toe-rag last I heard," Amelia said, her eyes glittering overtop of her novel.

"I just cannot believe it," Alice said, clearly amid an existential crisis.

"Potter, I mean,"

"Nah, too late, mate, your cards are on the table," Marlene said. "You fancy the pretty sod! You! Miss, _I won't date anyone this year!"_

"Miss,_ I have too much on my plate as it is_," Amelia added.

"Is he a good kisser?" Alice asked. "Cause Florence, y' know his old flame, told me she taught him everything he knows."

"Well, he's dated half of the Quidditch players and all the blondes in Gryffindor, so God knows he'd need to buck up a bit with this one over here," Mary said. "Before she's taken up, as it were,"

"Taken up! I am _not!"_

"Speaking as one who's kissed Potter before—,"

"What?" Alice exclaimed. "Marlene!"

Marlene waved her hand, and the girls scooted closer to hear, while Lily pressed a pillow to her face in humiliation. "It was that party last year, in the Common Room. Everyone was there, Black and Longbottom brought firewhiskey, and I was the closest bird, so he planted one on me and then swaggered away with Sirius arm in arm. I doubt he even remembers it."

"So, what was he like?" Alice asked, and Marlene made a face.

"What? Too much tongue?"

The girls giggled, and Lily's eyebrows shot into her hairline.

Alice wagged her finger, "Or not enough?"

The girls burst into laughter, and Lily covered her face with her hands. "I don't want to talk about it,"

"Since when do you kiss and not tell? I thought we were honest about everything!"

Lily's anger bubbled up to the surface, and she felt her face turn red as she fairly exploded with indignation.

"This is personal!" Lily exclaimed, her fists landing with force on the bedsheets. "It's my life, not yours! What I do in my time is no concern of yours or anyone else's! We kissed, and then we fought, and I haven't spoken more than two words to him since the last Prefect meeting, and I'm perfectly happy with that!'

"Well, sorry for asking," Marlene said with raised eyebrows.

"Don't be sticking your nose in other people's business! We thought that we were alone!"

"And how far exactly was his hand up your skirt when you came to that conclusion?"

Lily tugged at the curtains lining her bunk and collapsed onto her sheets. She cast a quick silencing charm and tried to ignore the quiet murmuring of her dorm mates. Who else had seen them? Gossip spread like wildfire in the castle, and if some sixth-year trollop knew, God knew who else did.

She flipped over her pillow and sighed. Even if no one had seen, someone would've guessed, the air between her and James had been thick ever since he broke up with his girlfriend last spring. She had fancied him forever; it seemed. Since sixth year at least, and in her heart of hearts, she had hoped that this day would come. But then she went and spoiled it! Spoiled everything, who brings up their sister when they're kissing somebody?

Even with the silencing charm, she could still hear the whispers of her dorm mates, so she threw her pillow over her head and wished for a sleep that could take away all her problems.

...

The next morning dawned clear and bright, and James smiled as he made his way out of the castle doors. He sighed in satisfaction as the sun peaked its eyes over the horizon, its fingers reaching and pulling and spilling light over the mountains and across the loch. He pulled his broom back up onto his shoulder, his hair already mussed in the wind and slid his hand back over it subconsciously, trying his best to keep it messy.

Sirius was already in the air— eighty feet straight up, spinning a Quaffle on his palm before tossing it in the opposing teams' left hoop with ease, a feat considering the wind speed that high.

James mounted his broom, tossing his apple core behind him, and kicked off hard, shooting high into the morning air. He straightened his glasses unconsciously as he levelled out, and let out a surprised _oof _as Sirius threw him the Quaffle, hitting him solidly in the stomach.

James grunted and laughed before punching the ball into the air, letting it fall a considerable distance before chasing after it, seventy feet straight down, catching the Quaffle with the tips of his fingers just as his feet brushed the dewy grass of the pitch. He lived for this— the adrenaline rush, the feeling of life flashing before his eyes. He shot back into the air like a rocket and levelled out below Sirius, drop-kicking the Quaffle twenty yards away for him to recover. Sirius laughed and flew after it, his broom catching the light.

"Hurry up, princess," Sirius yelled from across the pitch, cupping his hands around his mouth. "I'm not waiting forever,"

"You weren't saying that last night," James said, wiggling his eyebrows, racing forward towards him.

"Nobody could say that much of you, Prongs,"

James laughed, a deep belly laugh, and Sirius grinned. "Bet you can't catch this one," he said, spinning the ball in his hands and dropping it a few feet in front of him. The wind was strong, and James corrected his broom as it swerved to the side. Sirius flew like a shot, never terribly concerned for his welfare. The Quaffle fell quickly, but Sirius was a good flier, and evened out, circling far below James.

The sun was nearly risen, casting deep shadows over the surrounding mountains, the lake was the deepest blue and completely calm, the great white castle red with the sunrise.

James pulled a struggling Golden Snitch out of his trouser pocket, letting it flutter around his fingers. His father had been a Seeker, but James never wanted to be one, as much as he liked being the centre of attention, the Gryffindor Quidditch hero who snagged every girl he fancied, he'd rather be part of a whole as a fellow Chaser with his best mate.

"We should practice that pass again before Charles and Mars get here."

"What?"

James flew over Sirius in a loop and hovered above him upside-down, ruffling his mate's hair, pulling it out of the bun James had fixed for him. "I said, we should practice that reverse pass before the others get here."

"Good idea, Prongs," Sirius said, tossing the Quaffle up to James, who caught it, holding the snitch between his teeth as he turned about and flew beside Sirius. "Smashing, in fact, but given that it's not even half-eight, I would imagine we have a moment or two to see, just for comparison, of course, how fast your new racing broom is."

James patted his broom handle affectionately. "She's fast, mate,"

"Flashy though, I'm not sure if its better than the 1000,"

"Faster than Charles' Cleansweep,"

"Everything's faster than a Cleansweep, mate,'

"Then, _go_!"

Sirius raced after James as they barrelled to the other end of the pitch, where the small scarlet and gold players were making their way out of the changing rooms. James leaned forward and pushed for more speed, hearing Sirius coming up close behind him. _Faster_! He thought, his heart thumping in excitement. Flying was the one place where nothing mattered but the moment. His parents had bought him his first racing broom at two, and he had been addicted to the speed of it ever since. Nothing existed except for the wind and the blinding sun and the smell of grass a hundred feet below him. Here he could succeed without trying; here, he could find glory, bring his team to victory. Here there were clear rules, and an understanding about fair play, the grey area that seemed to cast a shadow over the rest of his life found no footing on the Quidditch pitch. Lily's actions stung, and the way that she ignored him was almost worse. He wished that she would take the initiative and clear the air, or he might say something he'd regret.

"Head's up, mate!"

James pulled up into a neat stop and let his broom hovered as he bumped Sirius with his shoulder, having beat him by nearly a full length.

"Good race, Potter!" Robin said, tossing her braid over her shoulder as she hovered on her broom. "Gave him a what for, didn't you!"

"It's the broom, Rob, I'm sure he had nothing to do with it," Marlene said, hefting up one end of the box of game balls while Charles held the other handle. They dropped it in the middle of the circle, and James took a deep breath, rubbing his hands together to keep warm.

"Alright," he said, "The first game is next week. Our odds are already looking pretty good with Genrick not playing this year."

"I thought she went into hiding," Charles said from behind him, and James turned. "Isn't she a Muggleborn?"

"What does that matter?" Robin said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It doesn't," Charles said, stuttering slightly. "Just conversation is all,"

"Prongs," Sirius said, giving him a little nod, and James cleared his throat.

"Anyway, Slytherin is always a tough player, we have to be ready for all contingencies," he turned to one side, their newest prospect, a small fifth-year girl. She had been impressive in all of their trials, and James was looking forward to seeing her play. "If you haven't met, this is Evelyn Roberts; she'll be our Seeker this season,"

There was a small chorus of hellos, and Evelyn smiled, a rather battered-looking Shooting Star clenched in her fist. James had no doubt that she could fly; he had seen her do it.

"What's this rumour that I heard about Quidditch being cancelled?" Frank Longbottom said, pulling on his Keeper helmet.

"it's just a rumour, Frank," Marlene said, looking at James, who sighed. "Right? They can't _cancel_ Quidditch,"

"There is a war going on, Mars," Sirius said tentatively. "God knows what'll happen."

"I also heard that you and Evans were screwing around," Robin said with a steely tone, and James' eyes went wide. "And that's why you skipped last practice,"

"I was not, _am not,_ screwing anybody!"

"That's not what I heard. Lara Simpson saw it all,"

"Since when are you friends with her?" Marlene said, facing Robin with her hands on her hips. "And what the hell do you know? You're a fourth year!"

"Hold on, since when was this about me?"

"I'm sorry, isn't everything?"

James' head was spinning; people had seen them? It was past midnight; the Common Room was empty! So far as he knew, the only person alive with a functional Invisibility Cloak was his father, and a Disillusionment charm is easy enough to see past if you know what to look for. And, he supposed, if he had been cognizant enough to see anything but Lily in front of him. _Gods_, he was so stupid. James rested his forehead on the handle of his broom as his team argued around him.

"For fuck's sake, James missed one practice!" Sirius said, and James turned to watch. "One! He's been captain of this team for three years, longer than most of you have been on the team. He was co-hosting a Prefect meeting and lost track of time, give the sod a bleeding break, yeah?"

There was a general murmur of consensus, and James cleared his throat, trying to ignore how red his ears were. "Right," he said, opening the notebook he had used as a playbook for six years, and the practice began.

...

Breakfast was a rather tense affair, and sensing the discord between herself and her dorm mates, Lily sat with Remus and Peter instead, nursing a cup of strong, sweet coffee. To compensate, Remus struck up a rather on the surface conversation about Gryffindor's first Quidditch game of the year.

"Well, that explains where Potter and Black are," Lily said absentmindedly, buttering a slice of toast. "Or else they're sleeping the day away,"

Lily looked up to see Remus' reaction and surprised to see him looking slack-jawed at something over her left shoulder. The Great Hall quieted, and Lily turned around to see what he was happening.

Her boyfriend, Arthur Cauterwal, stood five feet away from her with an expression of deadly calm in his eyes. Her face paled with the knowledge that he knew what she had done with James, _God_, had she cheated on her boyfriend? 

"Are you shagging James Potter?" he said quietly, and Lily shook her head vigorously.

"No, of course not!"

"Are you," he said and swallowed. "Are you seeing another bloke?"

"No, I promise I'm not!"

"Then why, do I hear rumours about you and James Potter snogging in the Gryffindor Common Room?"

Lily stood up and put a hand on his chest, trying her hardest to steel her resolve and to keep secrets secret. "Can we take this somewhere else, Art?"

"Seems to me that everyone in this damn school knows my girlfriend's fickle," Arthur said, a touch louder, and Lily took a step back. "So, it makes no difference to me where we talk."

"I haven't done anything wrong!"

"So, you just happen to fall into his arms and sit there quietly while he shags you?"

The doors of the Great Hall opened, and seven hundred heads turned as the Gryffindor Quidditch team entered. Their laughter died as the silence fell, and the once carefree expression on James Potter's face disappeared. She caught James' eyes, and his expression darkened and begun walking towards them.

"Look," Lily said, trying to catch Arthur's eyes. "Look. There's been a misunderstanding, and I understand your anger. I do. But it's misguided; you need to calm down—,"

"Oh, now I need to calm down?" Arthur said, his voice rising to a crescendo. "Fat chance of that, sweetheart. And look who it is, James _fucking_ Potter,"

The sound of clicking heels interrupted her thoughts as Professor McGonagall walked towards them from the head table. 

"Now that is quite enough," she said with a steely expression. "Miss Evans, Mr. Cauterwal, you are demonstrating unacceptable behaviour. I expect better from my Head Girl. This conversation can take place elsewhere."

James stood his ground as Arthur trembled with fury in front of him, and McGonagall took hold of Lily's arm to pull her behind her while Professor Sprout turned to talk to Arthur.

"Like hell, it can," Arthur said, and with a powerful swing knocked James' glasses off of his nose, and he doubled over in pain to loud gasps from the rest of the student body. 

"Mr. Cauterwal!" McGonagall said, and Sirius and Lupin reached to grab one of James' arms, holding him back from retaliating. Both of their eyes could've spit fire.

"Keep your hands off of her!" Arthur said, lunging towards James but held back by Sprout. "Keep your goddamn hands off of her, you hear me?"

James' eyes followed Arthur's as he was escorted out of the Great Hall by Sprout, and a rising tide of voices almost hid what McGonagall said. "This is completely and utterly unacceptable! Both of you follow me to my office."

"She didn't do anything!" Sirius said, standing beside James. "All she did was get shouted at for a bit, and now she's in shit? And what did James do but get punched?"

"Black, you as well. Ten points from Gryffindor for your vile language. Follow me,"

Lily slipped free and followed McGonagall with her head down. She knew James and Sirius were walking beside her but didn't dare look. Now she was the gossip of the entire student body, and everything, _absolutely_ everything was her fault.


	4. It's Just a Dream I Had in Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As James, Sirius and Lily prepare for a talk down from McGonagall, the rest of the school gossips over the unexpected fight in the Great Hall. James and Lily have a conversation about their futures, and James does something he immediately regrets.  
Chapter title courtesy of Looking for America by Lana Del Ray.

**I'm still looking for my own version of America**   
**One without the gun, where the flag can freely fly**   
**No bombs in the sky, only fireworks when you and I collide**   
**It's just a dream I had in mind**   
**It's just a dream I had in mind**   
_ **It's just a dream I had in mind** _

**-Looking for America, Lana Del Ray **

... 

The walk to McGonagall’s office was tense, James kept his eyes down, fists clenched at his sides. His head throbbed; the blow Arthur Cauterwal had done had rattled his brain. He’d broken his glasses enough times to know the spell by heart and repaired them quickly as they walked. If Lily had noticed, she didn’t let on. Now and again, as they walked down the corridors, James could just catch the whisper of a withheld sob and saw little tears at the corners of her eyes. He knew what was coming for him when he got to her office, James and the rest had been there enough times during their schooldays to expect to be let off without punishment.

He felt an idiot, he was still carrying his broom, and the delight James had had had just this morning in its virgin flight was nothing to the shame and embarrassment he felt now. Compared to Lily’s jumper and jeans, he felt abnormally uncomfortable in his Quidditch uniform, even more so like he was a child on his way to the Headmaster’s office. Not far from the truth, he supposed. But this time, he well and truly hadn’t done anything.

Sirius was much the same he always was, walking as if nothing bothered him on the other side of Lily. James knew that he was seething on the inside. Sirius had been raised on doctrine and discipline, and this charade of gloomy silence was nothing new to him. Luckily, the others had had the good sense to keep their bloody mouths shut and were most likely right as rain overhearing the tidal wave of gossip that was likely to have descended.

They turned the corner into the Transfiguration wing and stopped at the doorway as McGonagall unlocked the door.

“In,” she said, pointing needlessly to the three chairs before her desk.

They sat, and James couldn’t help watching as her knees bounced. Evans was a good person to have around in a crisis, levelheaded as she was; he hadn’t expected this from her. It was just detention, the worst that could happen is they would do manual labour, and even that wouldn’t be forever. And that wasn’t accounting for the fact that they had the map, and two men on the outside.

“What I witnessed in the Great Hall was the most inexplicable display of uncouth emotion I have, until today, been unfortunate enough to witness. Do you have anything to say for yourselves?”

“Evans didn’t do anything wrong,” Sirius said, and James nodded earnestly. “Her boyfriend shouted at her for a bit and then punched James in the face. I’m not sure, entirely, what in that she’s to blame for.”

McGonagall fixed the three of them with a piercing glare overtop of her spectacles, and James had the good sense to look away. “Miss Evans did nothing to quantify a punishable offence,” she said to their general astonishment. “Other behaving more discreetly in future, but that is neither here nor there. I called you here because it was an excellent opportunity to discuss another matter, one to the effect that is best discussed outside of the earshot of the general populace, and one that requires a good deal of tact.”

“So, you come to us?” Sirius said. “You have gone mad,”

McGonagall sighed and opened a drawer of her desk, retrieving a book. After a moment of searching for the correct page, she settled upon a paragraph, which she promptly began to read.

“The Head Boy and Girl must perform as a pair, to work together to lead the student body towards positive behaviour. Their responsibilities extend to that of the entire school, upholding themselves and those they represent into appropriate and upright conduct. They are the example by which the student body is to emulate, and the direct examples of the faculty and professors to students from all houses.”

She shut the book, and a cloud of dust settled over her desk. Sirius sneezed, and McGonagall looked over with distaste.

"Since you two had ascended to this post, There have been at least two public shouting matches between you, a public display of emotion in the Great Hall, and any number of public altercations between Mr. Potter and Mr. Snape in the full view of the student body.”

“You’re fighting with Snape again?” Lily said in a dangerous tone, turning to face James. “You’re such a child! I thought you were over this!”

“I didn’t do anything besides defend myself!” James said. “He started it! Called you a, called you—,”

“Enough,” McGonagall said evenly, and James sighed and turned to face her. “If this were to serve as an example of how not to behave, it would be more than sufficient. You are both of age and both aware of the correct way of behaving in public. This animosity between the two of you must come to a swift, and sudden conclusion or further steps will be taken.”

“Further steps?” Sirius asked, and James glared at him.

“Yes,” McGonagall said. “But not ones that involve you, Mr. Black. There is another option, not one used often, but it exists. There is a dormitory on the sixth floor that long ago was used by the Head Boy and Girl as their living quarters. You would spend some time in isolation from your dormitory, if that is the option Professor Dumbledore and I choose, to come to an understanding of the post you both share. Am I understood?”

“For how long?” Lily asked, not particularly looking forward to the implications therein. “Would we be in isolation, I mean,”

“Until we release you, Miss Evans, and you have the both of you, _regained control of your senses._ Am I,” McGonagall said, pausing to look at them over the rims of her spectacles. “Understood?”

“Yes, professor,” James said.

“You are dismissed, Black, Potter. Stay behind, Miss Evans, I wish to speak with you alone.”

James and Sirius both rose from their chairs to leave, but just before he did, James hesitated, one hand still on the back of his chair. “You won’t punish her, will you professor?” he said hesitantly. “She really has done nothing wrong.”

“I will do as I deem fit, Mr. Potter, it is of no concern to you,” McGonagall said, sitting back into her chair. James nodded and stole to the other end of the room where Sirius was waiting and closed the door.

...

Once the door shut, McGonagall put the book back in her desk and turned to face Lily, who looked more than a little embarrassed.

“Miss Evans,” McGonagall said, not unkindly. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

Lily sniffed, and when offered, took the biscuit absentmindedly. “Not particularly, professor,”

“I’m not speaking of, more recent events, although those are of merit as well,” McGonagall said, taking a ginger newt for herself. “But perhaps something of a more personal nature. I have heard through more than one of my colleagues that you have been unlike yourself as of late.”

Lily looked down at her lap, feeling very much the naughty child before their mother. Time hadn’t been kind to the relationship between her and her mother, and in that absence, McGonagall had taken measured control with a crisp, but not unkind efficiency. Many a teenage woe had been expressed in this office, but this wasn't a broken heart or a concern over O.W.L. requirements. Her sister didn't want her; her mother was otherwise occupied. She had cheated on her boyfriend intentionally, without consideration for the consequences and tangled herself in someone else's heart. This was adult stuff, embarrassment, and love declarations and an absentee immediate family. It was her future, her life beyond Hogwarts and the war, and she wasn’t sure what she thought about that.

“My sister is seeing a Muggle,” Lily began, fiddling with the seam in her jumper sleeve. “She’s said some unkind things about me regarding our home life, or rather, the lack thereof. She doesn’t want me to come home anymore.”

McGonagall Summoned a squat little teapot and poured two cups of tea, dipping a healthy measure of sugar into Lily’s cup before passing it on to her.

“You and your sister were close for a time, were you not?”

“Yes, very close.”

“What has changed since then?”

Lily sighed and took a sip of tea. “It all changed when Severus Snape found out that I was a witch. We started spending time together. He could explain these strange things that I could do, the odd things that happened to me. Petunia was jealous, and we haven't been close since.”

“Did things get better when you came to school?”

Lily nodded. “For a time, when we both came home over Christmas and summer hols, it was as if nothing had changed, but under the surface, something had shifted.”

“Shifted?”

“Yes,” Lily said. “My parents were mesmerized by what I could do; they wanted to hear everything about Hogwarts and magic and what I was learning. Petunia was just _ordinary_. King Lear pales somewhat in comparison to turning a teacup into a mouse.”

McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

“It was quick, nobody saw. Oh, never mind. What I meant to say is that our relationship has taken a turn for the worse, and I don’t believe that I’m capable of fixing it. I mean, I love her, of course I do. She’s my sister. But I miss her, and when I said the same to James and he was of a different opinion.”

“Oh?” McGonagall said, slowly stirring her tea.

“He said that you should always keep family close, even when it’s not in your best interest.”

“How wise,”

“Yes,”

“Did any other revelations sprout from this conversation?”

“Yes, but—,”

“But what, Miss Evans?”

“I don’t want to trouble you,”

“Nonsense,” McGonagall said. “I am your Head of House, and it is my responsibility to oversee your physical and mental wellbeing. And your wellbeing is the wellbeing of the school you serve, so I daresay whatever it is you have to say is of some importance,”

“I suppose so,” Lily responded, her knee bouncing all the more. “It was late, and we were somewhat under the influence. So much was happening all at once, and he was so close. He just seemed to care? If that makes sense? To care about _me_ and what was happening with Petunia and one thing led to another—,”

McGonagall held up a hand, and Lily paused, her jaw shutting like a clamshell. “Before you continue, Miss Evans, while I am sworn to secrecy in these matters, if you reveal that you and Mr. Potter have engaged in any explicit activities on school grounds you are both subject to far more serious punishments than isolation from your dorm mates."

Lily felt her face warming. “No! Not like _that_, no, no. We didn’t do, you know, _that_, I mean, _Merlin,_ professor! We kissed! That’s all! We kissed, and then we fought, and now we’re not talking to one another.”

McGonagall took a deep breath. “Well, there we are then.”

Lily sighed, resting her face in her palms. “I mucked everything up, and I wasn’t thinking straight, and now Arthur’s mad at me embarrassed me in front of everyone, and James thinks he has to protect me and I don’t—I don’t know what to do.”

“Matters of the heart are rarely easy, Lily,” McGonagall said softly, and Lily looked up in surprise of hearing her Christian name. “Did I ever tell you that I was married?"

“No, you didn’t,” Lily said, sitting up slightly. “Did your boyfriend call you a lying slag too?”

“No,” McGonagall said, “but my own love life was bumpy with many a twist and turn. Despite what one might think, love is worth waiting for and will reveal itself in time. In one way or another...”

...

James waved Sirius off as they left McGonagall’s office and took a seat on the window ledge outside, intending to wait for Lily to come out so he could explain a thing or two to her. The idea of forced isolation with Evans was, well, rather a wonderful one. He wasn’t sure what to think, God only knows how the Marauders would take it, would he have to stay there in her all the time?

It would be their sanctuary, two pairs of slippers in the little library he knew to be in there from the time they had explored it while making the Map, the adjacent dormitories with views of the Quidditch pitch. Unrestrained access to the girl of his dreams, cuddling on the couch, doing homework in front of the fire.

Not to mention all of the _alone_ time. Is this what this was? Organized torture? James tangled his fingers in his hair and tugged slightly before letting go. Sure, of course, he wanted to spend more time with her, who didn’t? She was beautiful, James had fancied her for years, but it seemed like whenever they began to make progress, he would offend her and then they’d row. He never was particularly good at recognizing boundaries, especially those of girls.

Their fights seemed to stem from any number of things, but as of late found their crux in Snape and her sister. Both off-limits, he decided, unless she brought them up. He could be better for her, a better version of himself, he could do it, he knew he could. He supposed he’d have to quit jinxing Snape, but that was a small price to pay considering.

James stood up a little quickly and ran his hands through his hair as the door to McGonagall’s office creaked open. She wasn’t crying, but she didn’t look thrilled, either.

“What’d McGonagall have to say?” He asked hesitantly, “Are you in trouble?”

“No,” Lily said. “No, nothing like that. She just gave some advice, is all.”

“Oh, good,” James said, with a nervous little laugh, and Lily looked down at her feet.

“I’m so sorry—,” she began, and James interrupted, shaking his head vigorously.

“No, I’m sorry, I butted in where I had no reason to, and I’m sorry.”

_She doesn’t need you to fight her battles, Potter. She’s a grown woman, and she can do what she likes. _

“But anyway,” James said, turning to go. “I just thought I’d say that, y’ know. Apologize, and all. Have a good rest of the day, Evans.”

James took his dignity in one hand and his broomstick in the other and began to walk down the hall, trying his damndest not to turn around.

“Look,” Lily said, taking hold of his wrist, and he paused, looking down at her with a light in his eyes. “Look, we don’t have to be friends, we don’t even have to be acquaintances. But we do have to be able to talk to one another. Just talk nothing else. We’re Head Boy and Girl, it’s our job to lead the school to a greater ideal, and we can’t do that if we can’t talk without fighting.”

“Fine,” James responded, shifting his feet slightly. “But we have to lay down some ground rules.”

“Like what?”

“No fighting, not in public, not in private. If we have something to say, we can say it without yelling at one another,”

“Deal,” Lily said. “Rule two, _if_\- and this is a big _if_\- if McGonagall puts us into the Head’s dormitory, nothing can change. We’re to be the same as we’ve always been and nothing more.”

“Fine, rule three,” James said, pulling his broom over his shoulder absentmindedly, watching her closely as her eyes followed his movements. “You can’t keep cozying up to Snape when the going gets tough,”

“I’ve done nothing of the sort!”

“Fine, then stop defending him," James said, "he’s a slimy git who’s _this close_, _this close_, Evans to being a fully-fledged Death Eater, he might be one already for all I know.”

“I’m not defending him," Lily said, crossing her hands over her chest. "He lost my friendship, and I’ll never forgive him for what he said that day. Sure, he is a slimy git, and he probably is a Death Eater, but we were best friends once, and it’s hard to forget that. So yes, I promise to stop defending him, happy?”

“Endlessly,” James said, his heart soaring. “Anything else?

"I want you to stop making eyes at Marlene,”

“What does she have to do with anything?”

“You kissed her,” Lily said. “She told me, last year, when Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup,” she looked up at his blank expression and let out a little laugh. “You don’t even remember, do you?”

“Well, I can’t tell you that I would kiss Mars sober; I can tell you that much,” James said, sighed and looked down at his feet. “Are you going to go back to Cauterwal?”

“No,” Lily said. “An old friend said I was too good for him,”

James grinned that shit-eating grin that had always endeared him to her and held out a hand. “Truce?”

“Truce,” said Lily. 

...

The rest of the day passed with little incident, and the words McGonagall had said to her weighed heavily on Lily’s heart. Would she honestly put them in isolation? What was that going to accomplish?

She walked mindlessly back to Gryffindor tower, her head spinning. She could handle her personal life, thank you very much, and anyone who said differently was mistaken. But then there was _James_, James who had been nothing but gallant and kind. And what had she done to repay him but be a jealous nag? He had, honestly now, done nothing wrong. He had been considerate and gentle with her, always, the handsome boy he always had been. And James was better now than he had been, still confident and cocky, but he wasn’t as arrogant she thought he was. Sure, he had dated more than one girl in his Hogwarts career, but she’d had her fair share of love interests over the years, and there was no use in getting jealous over them. She turned him down, more than once, and if it was now that she started to fancy him for real, it was her fault that he wasn’t interested.

But he _was_, he _was_ interested. When he passed Lily in the halls, his gaze lingered, stayed on her long after she passed him by. And when he kissed her, she had never felt safer than she did in his arms, in his company.

She gave the password to the Fat Lady, and she scrambled through the portrait hole into the Common Room. It was busy and loud, being a Saturday this early in the term. Her favourite armchair in front of the hearth was blessedly unoccupied, but her dorm mates were nowhere to be seen. Lily tossed her cardigan onto the cushion and walked up the stairs to the girls' dormitory to retrieve her books. If she couldn’t get her mind off of him by any regular avenues, maybe homework would help.

At the foot of the stairs, she was greeted by none other than Sirius, who was both empty-handed and visibly angry.

“Can it wait, Black?” She said, hefting her books into a more comfortable position. “I've got a mountain of homework to get through.”

“No, it can’t wait,” he said, and Lily sighed. “That talk with McGonagall, there’s more to it than she said, isn’t there?”

“Why don’t you ask Potter?” She said, looking just past him, she could've sworn she saw something. “I’m sure he could tell you.”

“James is annoyingly tight-lipped about the whole thing.” He said, turning to follow her line of sight and raising an eyebrow. “What are you looking at?"

“What did he tell you?” Lily said, mindfully training her gaze on him.

“Enough, but the gossip around here told me more,” he said. “Some sixth year is saying that she caught you two snogging in here last Saturday night. Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“Don’t play games, Evans, he said you kissed him,” Sirius said quietly, lighting a cigarette with his wand. “Said you wanted it and kissed him back. Something about taking advantage of a bad situation. He was heartbroken.”

Lily walked past him and sunk into her armchair, her books piled on her lap. Heartbroken, he had said. She’d broken his heart. And she had, intentionally. Maybe she was a bitch; God knows what losing Petunia had done to her.

“I didn’t mean to,”

Sirius followed her and took a drag of his cigarette, flicking the ashes onto the hearth. Lily stared into the flames, wishing she had something to do to shield herself from Sirius’ gaze.

“Didn’t mean he thought you had,”

“What are you on about?”

“You,” he said. “That you meant it. Kissing him, I mean.”

“He’s kissed lots of girls,” Lily said dismissively, trying to keep her gaze level. “I’m just another bead on a long string,”

“He’s fancied you for five years,”

“Stop it,”

“And you knew that, didn’t you?” Sirius said, his voice taking another tone. "Took advantage of a bloke you knew would kiss you back, and for what, exactly?”

“It’s not like that,”

“Then what _is_ it like? James is my best mate, and if you’re just _fooling_ around—,”

“For the last time, we did not ‘fool around,’ okay? All we did—,”

“I don’t fucking _care_, Evans," Sirius interrupted, his grey eyes piercing and unnerving. "It meant something to him. _You_ mean something to him, always have." 

“What’s this?” Marlene said from behind them, and Lily started, turning about suddenly. “You causing trouble, Black?”

“Go away, Mars,” Sirius said. “This doesn’t involve you,”

“Sure it does,” Marlene said, perching on the arm of Lily’s armchair, much to the general disgruntlement of Sirius. “She’s my dorm mate; it’s my shoulder she’ll be cryin’ on later if you fuck up,”

“It’s not me she fucked up with,” Sirius said, getting up to go. “James is a better man than you give him credit for, he’s done things you have no idea about that have been life-changing to the people around him. Maybe he is an idiot, but he’s no fool. And if he says he loves you, he does. Don’t pick up a man just because you can and drop him without notice when you get bored. He’s too good for that.”

Marlene took one look at Lily, and then at Sirius, who sighed and walked away. “That’s it, then. But everyone already knew that,”

Lily sighed, resting her face in her palms. “What am I going to do, Mars?”

“Apologize,” she said, running her fingers through Lily’s hair. “It’s what you should’ve done in the first place, but you’re a stubborn broad.”

“He doesn’t want to hear from me,”

“No?” Marlene said. “Then why’d he send Black to ask you? Why’d he call your bluff in the Great Hall? You don’t just do that if you don’t have a good reason to,”

“He’s Head Boy; he was doing the right thing for the school,”

“Bullshit,” Marlene said, and Lily looked up. “Bullshit, Lily Evans, and you know it. He loves you, has for years, and everyone here knows it. Sure, you fucked up, we all fuck up every once in a while. But if you think you can behave the way you did and get away with it because you're the Head Girl, you really are an idiot," 

“Hey!”

“For God’s sake, Evans, you’re being ridiculous. Apologize, move forward. See what it does for you.”

Marlene turned and walked back to the stairs, and Lily sunk further into the cushions, her humiliation nearly complete. She was right, of course. They did need to talk, and not just about boundaries. She needed to tell him, needed to tell him right now what she felt for him.

...

James had taken the long way back to the Common Room, intending to stop by the kitchens and pick up some breakfast before he made his way up. He had just turned the corner off the Great Hall when a hand grabbed his wrist, and he spun about to a furious Severus Snape.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” James exclaimed, wrenching his hand out of Snape’s grasp, wiping it on his trousers for good measure.

“Looked in the mirror recently, Potter?”

“What?”

“I can’t remember a time when you were particularly sympathetic to anyone’s cause but your own,” Snape said. “Or that of one of your friends.”

“What are you on about?”

“You snogged Evans!”

“And?” Potter said, and more than one person laughed behind them, causing Snape to scowl. "Since when do you care what I do?”

“I care about her!” Snape snarled, looking slightly mad with his eyes nearly bugged out of his skull in anger. “And you’re just using her _weaknesses_ to get in with her.”

“Look,” James said, raising his voice slightly. “You fucked up, Snape. You missed your chance, and Lily will never forgive you for what you said. She told me herself! Now I think it’s time you run along to your greasy Death Eater mates. Off you go,”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Snape said. “Just because she thinks you’re different now, it doesn’t change anything! You’re still the arrogant prat you've always been. And I am _not_ one of them.”

“No?” James said, taking a step forward, forcing Snape down a step. “Did you forget so soon that when you followed Lucius Malfoy around like a dog while he was here. Malfoy, the _Death Eater_. Or how you and Yaxley seem thick as thieves, keeping in mind, of course, that his _father_ is also a Death Eater. And what’s that rumour I heard about Mulicber and you? Friends for all your years at Hogwarts, the fucker who cursed Mary Macdonald badly enough that she’ll have a limp for the rest of her life.” James took another step down, and Snape stumbled before stepping down to the last stair. James flicked his wand, and Snape’s book bag exploded, books and parchment and ink tumbling down the rest of the marble staircase to the landing. Behind him, James could hear other students laughing as Snape scrambled to retrieve his things. James stopped, triumphantly above him, and picked up a small object and held it above his head as Snape reached in wide-eyed vain to get it back.

“Is this what I think it is?” James said loudly, rolling the quill around in his hand. “Good _God_, Snape, are you a thief now? Because if I’m not very much mistaken, this is Evans', she’s been looking for it for weeks. Wouldn’t she be interested to know that you’d stolen it?”

“No, don’t,” Snape gasped, holding his books to his chest, the contents of a spilled inkpot dotting his robes.

“And just why should I do you a favour, Snivellus? All the happy moments together?”

“She—she would hate you for it,” Snape gasped, reaching his arm all the higher, but James held the quill above his head. “You promised her, I heard her,”

James’ expression changed, and he suddenly stepped over Snape. “It makes no difference to me that you’re a snivelling freak lacking any semblance of a backbone,” he said, turning about to face him. “But you messed up, Snape, and she’s never going to love you. Best leave enough alone.”

“She’ll never love you either!” Snape shouted to a smattering of laughter. “Wait and see! She’ll come to her senses eventually!”

James shook his head and hefted his bookbag up his shoulder, intending to take the long way to the kitchens. He needed to think.

A swirling sense of dread settled over him as the reality of what he had done hit him. He had done _precisely_ what he promised both McGonagall and Lily that he wouldn't, not even twenty minutes after the fact. He had mocked Snape in full view of everyone. But Snape was different; he was everything that James hated in a person, he was deceitful, disloyal, he had abandoned Lily when she needed him the most and turned Death Eater for the sake of it. James _hated _him, and he didn't hate many people. He hated what Snape had done to her, called her a Mudblood in front of everyone, he deserved that and more for what he had done.

James twirled the peacock quill around his fingers as he walked down the set of stairs leading to the kitchens. He had promised her, and he hated the fact that he had gone back on it so quickly. Snape was a weasel, and it had never been hard to gain the upper hand against him. And it was true that he was a Death Eater, he and the others had seen him more than once talking with senior Death Eaters in Hogsmeade over the years. But Snape was something else to him; Snape was the history between him and Evans, the tripping block between friendship and something more. Even thinking about the day that he called her a Mudblood made his blood boil, she was feisty and clever and beautiful and so much more than a prize for Snape to gloat over. He didn’t deserve her, he was a fool, but perhaps no more than James was.

He slid off his book bag and sat down on the steps. Thank God none of Lily’s dorm mates had been there, but at least fifteen people had seen, and gossip moved fast within the castle. He had to tell her, had to before she found out from someone else. He was defending her honour, protecting her, didn’t she see that? Maybe if he spun it that way, she wouldn’t resent him so much.

Just then, footsteps sounded from above him. James stumbled to his feet and ran his hands through his hair unconsciously. Who else knew about the secret entrance to the kitchens?

“I think you took the wrong turn,” he said, swallowing suddenly, and a girl he didn't know stopped dead in her tracks.

“Oh! I am sorry,” she said, sounding as awkward as he felt. She was in Ravenclaw, he thought. Sixth year, maybe. “I have nothing to do, and I love poking about, but I just went in walked in on you, I do apologize.”

“No need,” James said, walking up the staircase to where she was. “This one’s not that hidden anyway; it leads to the kitchens.”

“It does?” She said, sounding more excited than he did. “That’s wonderful! How did you find that out?”

“My mates and I spent a good portion of our first year exploring the castle,” James said, shuffling his feet. “We found all of them by fourth year.”

“How exciting!” She said, pausing slightly and holding out a hand. “Oh, I am such a fool. I’m Flora Peele, and you’re James Potter, the Head Boy, right?”

“Yes,” James said.

“Even though you weren’t a Prefect,”

“Mhmm,”

“But here I am, rambling on when you have things to get to, _allons_, James Potter!”

James waved a funny little wave, shook his head, and walked towards the painting of the bowl of fruit, hoping quite sincerely that something to that nature would never happen again.

...

Before the end of Saturday, the story of how James Potter had humiliated Severus Snape on the marble staircase had reached every corner of the castle. Common Rooms exploded with gossip towards Snape's likelihood as a Death Eater accomplice, and by the end of the day, the chatter reached the girls' dormitory in Gryffindor tower.

“Did you see what James Potter did?”

“The Head Boy?”

“Yeah, the tall bloke who’s Quidditch captain. The one who kissed Lily Evans,”

“She’s too good for him,” Eileen said, looking over her shoulder. “I always thought she could've have done better than Arthur,”

“She’s only Muggleborn, I mean if you’re looking from that standpoint—,”

“Oh, that’s right,”

“Well anyway, Kelly heard from Gina who heard from Juliet that just before lunch, James got up with that Ravenclaw girl on the hallway next to the Hufflepuff common room. Frieda?”

“Flora,”

“Yes, that’s it,”

“I heard that he snogged her in the kitchen corridor,”

“He snogged her? He is as much of a fool as I thought he was.”

“I wonder if Evans knows?”

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! I hope you guys are enjoying this as much as I am :)  
With love,  
V


	5. As Family We'll Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise as Lupin faces the second full moon of the school year, and relationships deepen and develop cracks as true identities make themselves known.

**In unity, we'll stand as one**

** As family we'll go **

**Shoulder to shoulder, **

**hand in hand,**

**into the great unknown**

**-For All that You Have Done, Rend Collective**

...

As the season dipped further into autumn, leaves swirled through the Quidditch pitch and across the loch. Hallowe'en was coming, and as the days turned and the moon waxed, Remus watched the sky with increasing trepidation. When the moon filled, his transformation in October was seemingly unending; the Marauders were up the whole night long with him. Being as close to Hallowe'en as it was, the new first years turned to one another in fright at the howls coming from the Shrieking Shack. They conspired not about goblins and vampires, but about the Death Eaters and savage werewolves, they had read about in the _Daily Prophet._ Reports were coming in by the hour it seemed about attacks, whole families killed in the night, or even in broad daylight by the swelling ranks of the Death Eaters and You Know Who. Day by day, classrooms were a little quieter, Common Rooms a little emptier, and as October drew to close, parents began pulling their children out of Hogwarts altogether. The war was coming, and by many estimations had been coming for some time. At Dumbledore's word, Aurors found their postings at the gate of Hogwarts, and the teachers placed multiple security enchantments around the grounds. The student body was warned to keep out of the Forbidden Forest and to travel in pairs or groups of three. Prefects began escorting first and second years to classes, taking furtive glances around corners before ushering the others forward in fear of what might lie around the corner.

The fear of the war hadn't escaped Hogwarts as some hoped it might have, and as time went by, the divide between Slytherin and the other three houses intensified. Fights started between the houses, and shouting matches erupted in classrooms and corridors alike, students picking sides and standing tall with their friends. It hadn't escaped anyone's notice that parents of some students were members, and indeed even founding members of the opposing sides of the conflict. Professors introduced extracurricular classes on self-defence and duelling, only for the classes to fill, and when expanded, fill again. The fear was palpable, and some of those on the opposing sides held a stinging left forearm with a quiet sort of pride as they moved through their lives day-to-day.

The rumours of Dumbledore cancelling Quidditch grew as the first game of the year found itself fast approaching. There had been no word positive or otherwise from on high, so both James Potter and Regulus Black prepared their teams for a tumultuous match scheduled for the following Saturday.

Classes continued with a rotating cast, Defence and Potions, and double Charms rounded out Thursday afternoon. After dinner, the masses found themselves huddled over books and bits of parchment scribbling madly with a hunch in their spines. James called the second meeting of the Prefects, which, by all intents and purposes, had been successful. After consultations with Remus and Lily, he assigned patrols, inspired decisive action and addressed the rift without calling attention to Lily's short-fallings. The twenty-four Prefects breathed a collective sigh of relief now assured at the stability of their Head Boy and Girl.

James scheduled two more Quidditch practices, the second of which being in less than favourable weather conditions, and Marlene and Robin had complained loudly and frequently of how one couldn't possibly be expected to play in a positive deluge they found themselves in. Soaked and muddy, and only forty-five minutes into their practice, the Gryffindor Quidditch team slipped and slid their way into the changing room.

"Well, that was a waste of time," Evelyn said, tossing a soaking hat onto the bench and sitting beside it with a sigh.

"I agree," Frank said, looking much like a dog left out in the rain. "I couldn't see anything out there."

"The weather doesn't appear to be changing, so this might be it for Saturday, best get used to it," James said, wiping his glasses on his shirt. "Right, well since there's no use going back out, we may as well call it. Good practice, see you later,"

Charles stood, his broom in hand. "Still no word about cancelling the game?"

"No," James said. "But Dumbledore hasn't said anything, so the lack of news, in this case, is good news."

The team changed quickly and left, and once they found themselves alone, Sirius clasped a hand on James' shoulder.

"Bad luck, Prongs, that's all,"

"Thanks, mate,"

"Fancy a kip down to the kitchens?" he asked, drying his Gryffindor jersey with a hot blast of air from his wand. "I fancy a hot chocolate,"

"Excellent."

...

James and Sirius had long ago enchanted the pockets of their robes with an Undetectable Extension Charm, and even with that were fairly bursting of good things to share. The Elves had supplied treacle tart for James, toffees for Lupin, pumpkin pasties for Sirius and chocolate biscuits for Peter, as well as a healthy measure of hot chocolate for all. James and Sirius spread out their bounty, and when they looked up, they noticed Lupin with a mischievous look on his face.

"Close the door!" Lupin said, and James looked at him quizzically before shutting the door with his foot.

"Look what I found," Lupin said as Sirius sat down beside him. He spilled the contents of his rucksack onto his bed, and the Marauders crowded about to look. "I was poking about in Slughorn's office during the last Slug Club rendezvous—,"

"You make it sound much sexier than it is," Sirius said, putting his feet up on the register. "A rendezvous makes it sound like an escapade; it's an old man making 'connections' in a room of brandy and canapés."

Peter shook out Remus' bag and held out a pack of cigarettes. "May I?"

"Course," Lupin said, and once Peter lit one, he tossed the pack to Sirius. "Anyway, as I was saying, I had a thought for Hallowe'en,"

"Did you now?" James said with a laugh in his voice. "Thought you were too old for pranks, Moony,"

"You're never too old for a bit of fun where it counts,"

"No, indeed!" James said, biting the head off of a chocolate frog, taking a peek at the card before wrinkling his nose and tossing it in the fire. "Merlin _again_, for his own sake!"

"Aren't you a little old to be collecting the damn things, Prongs?" Moony asked, lifting a brow. "You are seventeen, after all."

"Weren't we just reliving the glory days, gentlemen?" Sirius said. "One cannot be both too old for pranks and chocolate frog card collections. I'm on my knees, begging you to continue, dearest Moony."

Remus lifted a large jar off his sheets and tossed it to Peter, the liquid inside red and viscous. "What the hell is this?"

"The perfect prank, we only have one Hallowe'en left at school, and we'd best go off with a bang, wouldn't you agree?"

"We _won't _be shone up by McFettridge again, not like last year," 

"What were you thinking?" James asked, taking the jar from Peter and examining it closely.

"As I had said, I've been fiddling with ingredients, and I can't claim to be as good at Potions as you and Sirius-,"

"Never could, Moony, but continue,"

"I think I found a combination that can change the colour of the fabric,"

"Did you?" Sirius said, taking the jar from James and unscrewing the lid. "However, considering the circumstances, I'm not sure why you would."

"What?"

"Why change the colour," Sirius said, leaning forward, "When methods exist in which you can make them invisible?"

The boys roared with laughter as Sirius tore off a piece of his curtain hangings and dipped the fabric in a jar from behind his pillow. When he raised it out, the cloth shimmered and then became transparent.

"Boys, we are in business!"

...

It was hours after sunset, and the girls' dormitory was silent, save for soft breathing and gentle snores. Lily had been dozing, unable to fall asleep with the guilt of her breakup in the forefront of her mind. He wasn't a bad bloke, not really. Arthur had been good to her, they had gone out for eight months, and he truly hadn't done anything to deserve what she had done to him. After the episode he pulled in the Great Hall, and once the lot of them had left their respective Head's offices, she had broken up with him, quickly and emotionless in the corridor just off the Hufflepuff Common Room. He had been upset, and he had every reason to, and Lily tried her damndest not to fall for his antics again. The walk back from the main floor she had done in a daze, and once Sirius had finished chewing her out, she returned to her dormitory and collapsed on her bed. There was a lump under her head, and once Lily turned, she was surprised beyond belief to see her favourite peacock quill on her pillow. She had been missing it for weeks, where the hell had it come from?

She and her dorm mates had done some homework, gone down to dinner (looking all around to see if Arthur had turned up, but he seemed to be absent) and finally went to bed. It had been one hell of a day.

She was nearly asleep, her eyes finally beginning to close, when she woke to the sound of shrieking from the next bed over, her heart sinking as her eyes confirmed what she knew to be true. Mary's limbs were twisted in the sheets, tears of pain pouring down her cheeks.

"Oh, Mary," Lily said, "Hold on, I'll get Madame Pomfrey."

Lily looked over to Marlene and Alice's bunks, and in the darkness, she saw Amelia jumping out of bed towards Mary.

Lily threw on a dressing gown over her nightgown and ran down the steps. She bolted out of the portrait hole and down a great many flights of stairs to the Hospital Wing. Once she arrived, dishevelled, and out of breath, it didn't take more than a look for the Matron to follow Lily back towards Mary.

"It's worse," Lily panted, running up the marble staircase. "Much worse. It—it hasn't been this bad for months."

Madame Pomfrey nodded, no words were needed. Ever since Mulciber had attacked Mary at the end of their fifth year, the Matron had been doing her best to treat her to mixed results.

Once they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Lily stopped to catch her breath before exclaiming the password and wriggling her way through the portrait hole. When they arrived in her dormitory, Mary was worse, as she was nearly shaking to contain her shouts. Madame Pomfrey rushed to her bedside and waved her wand over Mary's form. Lily reached down and took her hand, whispering what she hoped to be calming words. Amelia rubbed a piece of damp flannel over her forehead, and the others stood in shocked silence at the situation.

"I'll bring her to the Hospital Wing," the Matron said, pulling a bottle out of her pocket and coaxing Mary to swallow its contents. "She'll need more powerful painkillers than what I have on my person."

Once the last drop of the potion disappeared down Mary's throat, Madame Pomfrey raised her wand and cast a nonverbal hover charm, and Mary rose from her bunk, looking thinner and shakier then Lily had ever seen her. Amelia lay a blanket over Mary's form, and Mary pulled it close.

"Thank you, girls," Madame Pomfrey said. "I'll take her from here."

"I'll come," Lily blurted out, pulling on a pair of slippers. "I don't have class first period. I can watch over her."

"Very well, Miss Evans," the Matron said, waving her wand so Mary could float past them through the doorway. "Come quickly, the sooner we get to the Hospital Wing the better,"

...

It was the middle of the night, and the ghosts in the halls drifted to one side as the Matron and Lily hurried past. Lily pushed open the doors to the Hospital Wing, relieved to see it was empty. Madame Pomfrey gently lowered Mary onto an available cot and ran into the storage cupboard.

Mary lay grimacing with pain, the potion beginning to wear off, her arms wound tightly around her legs.

"It'll just be a moment, Miss Macdonald," Madame Pomfrey said, pointing her wand at a hovering bag of fluid, which rapidly began to fill. "Just a moment, hold on my dear,"

Madame Pomfrey ran to her storage cupboard and retrieved a vial of a thick purple liquid, and Lily watched with worry as she stirred it slowly and added a packet of white powder to the mix. Once it was combined, the Matron tipped back Mary's throat and encouraged her to drink.

She cried out, and Lily looked on with a pained expression, holding Mary's hand tightly in both of her own.

"This will help, Mary, just stay still,"

Mary said nothing, her face contorting in pain, but in the quarter of an hour it must've taken for the potion to take effect, her face begun to relax, and her limbs settled back into the mattress. Lily sighed in relief.

"Thank you," she said, tucking a piece of curly hair behind Mary's ear. "She looks so much better already,"

"Miss Evans," Madame Pomfrey said hesitantly, pulling herbs and bits of this and that from a drawer into a stone mortar. "You must understand what I've given her is temporary and becoming less effective with time." The Matron sighed and ran a hand over Mary's forehead. "She is still in a great deal of pain,"

"Oh,"

"From what the Healers at St. Mungo's have told me, and from my observations, there is little to be done, other than to keep her comfortable, and lessen the amount of pain she's in." the Matron said, adding a dollop of something bright green to the mix, and mashing it together with her pestle. "The magical world is just as inept as curing her; I'm afraid to say,"

"What is it?" Lily asked, rubbing Mary's palm with her thumb. "Do you know yet?"

Madame Pomfrey nodded, waving her wand and watching with a distant expression as the instruments she had used turned gracefully in midair and returned to an open cupboard. "Yes, I've suspected for some time, but after a consultation at St. Mungo's, I'm certain."

The Matron sighed and turned to face her. "Miss Macdonald is seventeen and has given her express permission for you, your fellow dorm mates, as well as Mr. Balsan, be fully aware of the specifics of her condition. She has elected not to inform her parents of the specifics, which, of course, is her decision."

"Yes," Lily said with a heavy heart. Mary's relationship with her parents was strained, where it existed at all. Highly suspicious people by nature, they were shocked and upset when Mary received her Hogwarts letter. They kept her magic a secret, highly suppressing her abilities until they almost disappeared. It made Lily sick, to think of parents treating their own like that. She had never lacked parental affection, but Mary had alternated between hers and Marlene's homes since their second year during summer, Christmas and Easter hols. She hadn't lived with them since fourth year, nearly eight months before the attack.

"What she has is a deterioration of nerve function, from what I can tell about the curse itself is rudimentary but permanently damaging. She limps, and most of her pain is located along her spinal column, making walking and moving about difficult and painful. In time, her speech may be affected, and she will be unable to walk on her own,"

Lily took a shaky breath, holding tightly to her friend's hand. "Poor, poor Mary,"

"Yes,"

"Does Anthony know?"

"Mr. Balsan was told as much as you, and until I know more, I'm loathed to speak more of it."

Madame Pomfrey and Lily both looked down at Mary with similar expressions. She had done nothing wrong, nothing to have provoked Mulicber, or anyone else, and here she was crippled for life.

"I wish I could do something for her,"

"Your company does wonders, I imagine," Madame Pomfrey said, walking out of Lily's line of sight. "I'll make a stronger potion for her while she sleeps," she said, placing the mortar in Lily's hands. "It's a topical ointment to be rubbed onto the affected areas. Spread it liberally, and wash your hands thoroughly afterward."

"Thank you," Lily said, putting the solution on Mary's bedside table and running a hand over Mary's cheek, preparing for a long vigil ahead.

...

Breakfast on the morning of October 28th came with the usual flurry of owls and a general murmur of activity. Holyhead, Sirius' great horned owl, landed with a squawk with one talon in Peter's oatmeal and a thick letter and a parcel in her beak. Sirius opened his palm and ripping open the letter with a look of barely contained glee on his face.

"Mum and dad wrote," Sirius said, skimming the contents between sips of coffee. "Looks like they've got a gnome infestation in the garden again."

James smiled, taking another piece of bacon. "Anything else?"

"They said that we're not to make too big a deal of Hallowe'en, don't know why they bother really. It's like they don't know us at all,"

"What's in the parcel?" Lupin asked, leaning over to look.

"Ah!" Sirius said, pulling out a large box of chocolates. "For you, Moons, oh, and a pack of sugar quills for you, Pete. Dunno why you fancy _mint_ when bubblegum exists, but that's for you to wrestle with."

Peter reached out to grab the package with a laugh, sucking the first one he grabbed rapturously.

"Oh, and look!" Sirius exclaimed, "Looks like they sent their firstborn something too!"

Sirius tossed a large bottle to James, who caught it and promptly groaned as he read the label.

"Since you're now Head Boy, do try and look like one," Sirius read from his letter, and the boys laughed. "So, I sent _another_ bottle of Sleekeazy in the hopes that you'll use it this time."

James groaned, and Sirius read the addendum with a grin. "With loads and loads of love to all our boys, Mum and Dad,"

"What's this, Potter?" A voice said from beside James. He turned to look, but before he could move, they had punched him square in the jaw.

James groaned, and when he looked up, the satisfied face of Lily's ex-boyfriend smirked down on him. "What the hell was that for?" he exclaimed, and the Marauders stood at once, glaring at Cauterwal.

"Nothing," He said, taking a piece of toast from Longbottom's plate and taking a bite, much to Frank's displeasure. "Taking the lay of the land is all. Is she here?"

"She broke it off; if you cared about her, you'd leave her alone," Sirius said, standing beside James. "Not that you'd know what it is to care,"

Cauterwal stopped suddenly, looking towards the letter Sirius had left on the table. "What's that?"

"A letter?" James said, raising an eyebrow. "What's it look like?

"I didn't know they were still coming through," Cauterwal said, his voice taking a different tone. "I haven't heard from my parents in weeks."

"What's that to do with Evans?"

Cauterwal paused and gave his head a little shake before turning around and walking back to the Hufflepuff table.

"What was that about?" Lupin asked, pulling his book bag over his shoulder.

"I dunno, not what I expected, though," James said, rubbing his sore jaw thoughtfully. "Where is Evans, anyway?"

...

Luckily it was Friday, and the girls' schedule allowed for at least one of them to remain at Mary's bedside for the rest of the day. She was no longer in pain, but she hadn't woken up yet. Lily had gone back to bed after breakfast, and Marlene was glad. There was a rumour going around that James was going out with another bird, some Ravenclaw sixth year she didn't know. Marlene knew that Lily cared about him, maybe more than Lily cared to say. If the news that he was seeing another girl came about unexpectedly, she didn't know what Lily would do. The last thing she needed right now was another rumour of James Potter's fickle heart.

Marlene and the others had done their best to deny what was said, but it hadn't helped, any gossip surrounding the handsome Head Boy spread like wildfire.

At breakfast, while the others were distracted by parcel Sirius had received from the Potter's, she also received post. It was short but unfeeling, and Marlene sniffed to stop a tear from running down her cheek.

She pushed past Lily's ex-boyfriend and left early, intending to go to the library to think when she bumped quite literally into the Headmaster outside the doors to the Great Hall.

"My apologies, professor," Marlene gasped, stepping back. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Are you quite alright, Miss McKinnon?" Dumbledore said, not unkindly. "You're looking rather blue,"

"It's nothing, professor," Marlene said, tucking her letter further up her sleeve. "It's been a rather long night."

"And destined to be longer still, I would think," he said, looking down at her through half-moon spectacles, his smile warm.

"It's just a letter," she said, pulling the post from the pocket of her robes. "From my parents. I haven't heard from them in weeks, and I disagree with what they have to say,"

"Oh?"

"They said some rude things,"

"Well, my office is always open to students in need, and should you find yourself in need, you would find yourself very welcome,"

"Thank you, professor," Marlene said, a little confused. 

"Indeed, if you find yourself not taking N.E.W.T. Muggle Studies, you'd find me quite unoccupied in my office."

He did know everything, Marlene thought, walking down the halls to Dumbledore's office later that afternoon, the letter from her father held tight in her fist. She had always respected Dumbledore, he was brilliant, but she had never had an actual conversation with him. What the hell was Marlene doing? He didn't care about her problems; she should handle this on her own.

She was just turning around when the gargoyle in front of his office turned about, revealing a staircase. She took a deep breath, steeled her nerves, and stepped on the stair, which began to rise and twist upwards like a Muggle escalator.

Once she reached the door, she faced another moment of foolhardy trepidation. Dumbledore knew this and more about what could and indeed should happen. He was the Headmaster, and if she knew anything, she knew that Dumbledore knew best.

She raised a shaky hand, formed it into a tight fist, and knocked quietly twice on the wood.

"Come in," a soft voice said from inside.

Marlene pushed open the door and looked around. She had been inside this office twice before, for reasons best not mentioned, and felt unsure of her place here now. Her nerves plagued her, she had always been of an anxious disposition, but this was silly. There was nothing to be afraid of; it was just _Dumbledore._

"Sir?" She called not seeing him immediately. She looked up and around for him, but Dumbledore was nowhere in sight. Strange little whistles and noises distracted her, silver instruments she had no name for littered every available surface. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, warbled gently, and when she approached, he allowed her to scratch under his chin. His plumage was as bright and vivid as ever, a stunning bird, and she wasn't one for pets.

"Oh there you are, Miss McKinnon," someone said from behind her, shelving an armful of books with a calm expression. He waved his wand, and the remainder of the books rose from his arms and settled one by one in the empty spots they belonged in. He gestured to one of the squashy looking armchairs in front of his desk, and she sat, perturbed and still distinctly uncomfortable.

"Good afternoon, professor," Marlene said, pulling the now crumpled letter out of her robes' pocket. 

"Ah yes," Dumbledore said, sitting at last. He opened a small silver box and rummaged about before popping something in his mouth. "But before we discuss perhaps more serious matters, sweets. Would you fancy a lemon sherbet?"

"Oh, uh, no thank you," Marlene said, confused, thinking that this was hardly time for sweets. "I wasn't sure what you wanted to discuss, but I thought it had something to do with the letter from my da,"

"Yes, I believe so," Dumbledore confirmed, arching his fingertips. "What are your thoughts in regards to its contents?"

"I—I don't know, professor,"

"Well, perhaps we can conclude something together," Dumbledore said. "I understand that you recently celebrated your seventeenth birthday,"

"Yes, September 14th,"

"Which makes you of age," Dumbledore said. "By right of law, you are free to make the decisions of future independently of parental consent. Do you understand what I am implying?"

"Professor?"

"I can't help but suppose, and correct me if my assumptions are incorrect, but a father might have concerns about his daughter attending school at a time such as this," Dumbledore said. "And, perhaps, thoughts regarding subject matter or unwelcome social interactions,"

"I'm not following, professor,"

"With these assumptions in mind, I daresay the letter from your father is asking you to reconsider your time at Hogwarts in regards to blood purity," Dumbledore said gently. 

"Oh," Marlene said, her heart thumping. "So even though he says—,"

"It is of no legal standing," Dumbledore said, and Marlene nodded, a small smile creeping onto her lips.

"He's my da," Marlene said. "I love him, I do. But it's irrational, I told him, I _told_ him. If Hogwarts isn't safe, then nowhere else is either, let alone Edinburgh. It's on the other side of the earth."

"I quite agree," Dumbledore said, standing. Marlene tucked the letter into her robes, and after waving farewell to Dumbledore made her way back to Gryffindor tower.

...

The rest of the day passed quietly, and without incident, students went to classes and then to dinner, where Marlene had convinced Lily to remain in bed, telling her she'd bring up a plate in the hopes that the unwelcome gossip would pass her by.

At the end of dinner, Sirius took off on his own, intending to go on a walk to clear his head. He took several floors in silence, mulling over the thoughts of the day. Who the hell did Cauterwal think he was, anyway? He hadn't even been dating Evans for a year; he had no reason to act the way he did. There was many a creative way to get back at him, Sirius thought with a smile, one of which quite fitting to the circumstances and reasonably easy to execute. 

Just as he took a step onto the seventh floor, he heard shouting from around the corner. He pulled the map out of his robes' pocket and looked to see who it was, not surprised to see the names of those he thought to be that pompous Ravenclaw third year and his mates, most likely.

He tucked the map back away before turning the corner, slowing his steps to catch as much of the conversation as he could.

"No, I swear it!" a boy shouted, his highly embellished robin's egg blue robes swishing about his person. He looked agitated, so Sirius took advantage of his height, putting his hand on the kids head to turn him around. "Hey! Who do you think you are?"

"Sirius Black," he said, putting the kid back on his feet. "And very interested in what you just said.

"I swear, I know what I heard," the kid said, waving his hands in agitation. Sirius crossed his arms over his chest and tried to look indifferent. "There's a monster at Hogwarts!"

"Is there now?" Sirius said, gratified by how nervous he was making him. 

the kid huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I heard something in the Shrieking Shack! I've been researching werewolves, and what I heard matched the exact pitch—,"

"Are you high?"

"Am I _what_?"

"High," Sirius said, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it with his wand. "I was thinking of a way for your story to be true, and this is the only conclusion I've arrived at. Intoxicated, under the influence,"

"I am _not! _Nothing of the sort!" he exclaimed, stamping his foot. "I know what I heard. I'm on my way to tell Dumbledore right now!"

"Well now," Sirius said, sidestepping to block Lockhart's path. "I am _sorry_ to hear that,"

"Step out of the way!" Lockhart said, lifting his chin. "I'll have you know that Professor Dumbledore and I are on first name terms! He'll believe anything I tell him,"

'Anything, you say?" Sirius drawled. "Anything at all?"

"Of course!"

"Well," he said, taking a step forward. "If you knew Dumbledore as well as you say you do, what's the password for his office?"

"Well," Lockhart said, stumbling over his words. "He did tell me, but it's been some time since then. He usually walks me up,"

Sirius gestured towards the stone gargoyle and smirked. "Off you go then, don't let me distract you from your _very important message,"_

"I don't plan to!"

Sirius stood where he was, the map tucked in the deep pockets of his robe. He knew Dumbledore was still in McGonagall's office, but he had only arrived back at the castle this morning after a whole week away. Hell, even Sirius didn't know the password to Dumbledore's office, James and Lily did, as did Lupin, but Sirius had never had the need to go in there alone, unsummoned. And neither, he guessed, had Lockhart.

"Sherbert lemon!" Lockhart said, and Sirius lifted an eyebrow in a carefully practiced show of nonchalance. The gargoyle remained still, and if Sirius wasn't mistaken, it developed a bit of a crease between his eyebrows.

"Uh, not that then," Lockhart said, rolling up his sleeves. "Last time it was a type of sweet. Raspberry drop!"

Again, nothing. Lockhart looked a bit red in the face but gave any number of sweets as a password to the gargoyle, who in anticipation of the eighth attempt, rolled his eyes and said several choice rude words, before turning his back on the pair completely.

"So much for being a personal favourite,"

Lockhart huffed and turned around, walking quickly but with a great deal of dignity down the hall and out of sight.

...

"You'll not believe what I heard this afternoon," Sirius said later that night, breaking off a piece of pumpkin pasty and popping it in his mouth. "In the gargoyle corridor outside Dumbledore's office,"

"You've gotta stop sneaking up on couples, Pads," Lupin said, tousling Sirius' hair. "Bit creepy, that."

"It's not funny, Moons," Sirius said, his pulse jumping in fear. "This Ravenclaw third year thinks he heard something out of the Shrieking Shack. He thinks there's a werewolf at Hogwarts."

The jovial mood dropped all at once, and a chilling sense of dread settled over them.

"Does he know?"

"Did he see me?" Lupin said, his eyes wide and afraid. "See us?"

"I don't know," Sirius said, his gaze intense. "I don't know; it surprised me, we haven't had anything as close as this since Snape,"

"And we all remember how well that went," Peter said, "What'd you say, Pads?"

"I told him off, said some pointed words towards his mates. He was on his way to tell Dumbledore,"

"He just got back," James said, leaning against Peter's knees. "Marlene saw him just this afternoon."

"Do you think he still suspects?" Remus asked, his voice shaky. Sirius pulled his friend in tight and held him as he shook in fear.

"Course not," Sirius said, "I gave him—,"

A loud knock sounded at the door, and the Marauders looked at each other in confusion. James untangled himself and opened the door, surprised beyond belief to see Lily standing there in her dressing gown.

"Lily?"

"Mary's in pain," she said, and the others rose quickly. "Marlene went to get the Matron, but she's hysterical. Remus, what do you use?"

"What?" Sirius asked.

"At the full moon?" she pleaded, stepping into their dorm. "What do you use? She's incomprehensible."

"Uh, I have some things," Lupin said, rusting about in his trunk. Sirius pulled a package out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Lupin, who tossed the lot along with a small bag of medicine into a cloth bag.

"Here," he said, shaking. "Start in small doses; it's potent stuff."

"Thank you," Lily exclaimed, and left as soon as she came.

Once James closed the door, a look of dim shock on his face, the Marauders looked at one another in terror.

"Since when does _Evans_ know?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE:  
I decided to give Mary MacDonald the magical equivalent of MS, with the intention of showing that just like Alice and Frank Longbottom would one day have a medical diagnosis that was unable to be fixed by magical or Muggle means, others could exist as well. How and why this disease was obtained is a mystery for now, but won't be forever. May those suffering in silence suffer no longer.


	6. I've Met Too Many Men Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A (rather lengthly) burgeoning anti-tyrannical realization, tedious school day, and a fight for the ages prompting a surefire banishment for an undetermined duration.

**Come home with me **

Who are you?

**The man who’s going to marry you.**

**I’m Orpheus **

Is he always like this? 

_Yes_

I’m Eurydice 

**Your name is like a melody **

A singer, is that what you are? 

**I also play the lyre**

Oh, a liar and a player too?_ I've met too many men like you. _

-**Come Home With Me, Hadestown Original Broadway Cast **

... 

Lily took hold of the small package Lupin had given her and ran towards her dormitory. Mary had been convulsing for fifteen minutes, and the Matron had already exhausted her stores of the potion she usually administered. She was brewing another, but it would be over an hour until it was complete. 

Lily was nearly up the stairs of the girls' dormitory when Lupin, out of breath with his hands on his knees, appeared behind her. He waved his wand in a lazy sort of way, and the stairs remained in place as the pair bounded towards the seventh year girls’ dormitory. 

“Mary,” Remus said once Lily opened the door. “Quickly, pass me the bag.” 

Lily pushed the small package back into Lupin’s hand and watched with the rest of her dorm mates as he took a small spoon from his pocket and scooped out a dose. 

“This will taste terrible, Mary, but it’s a powerful Muggle painkiller. Keep it under your tongue until it dissolves.” 

Mary opened her mouth obediently, her body coated in a film of sweat. Her eyes were wild, but she nodded gently and took the dose without complaint. 

“Carefully now,” Remus said gently. “Relax your tongue, breathe through your nose. Follow me, Mary. Breathe in, and then out. Take your time.” 

Marlene and Amelia each held one of her hands, their words soothing as they encouraged their friend to breathe through the pain. 

Lily clutched the post of Mary’s four-poster, her face drawn and pale. She felt Lupin’s cool hand slide into her own and gripped it tightly. 

“It will take time to work,” Remus said quietly. “Don’t expect miracles in a minute,” 

With the others occupied and the medicine working, Lily pulled Lupin off to the doorway and looked up at him with concern on her face. “How do you handle it?” Lily asked. “The pain?” 

“My friends,” said Lupin, smiling gently. “They help, it’s not as bad when they’re around. But it’s a manageable pain, and until they invent a cure, there’s nothing to be done.” 

“Are they? Are they inventing a cure?” 

Lupin sighed. “I don’t know, I hope so. James’ dad had people working on it, last I heard.” 

“I hope they find something, Rem,” Lily said, squeezing his hand before releasing it. “You’d better get back to your dormitory before someone sees you,” 

“Sure,” Remus swallowed, standing up quickly. “Sure. Tell Mary that the dose I gave her is temporary relief, whatever Madame Pomfrey can make will be much stronger. Tell her to try and sleep.” 

“I will,” 

“I’ll give James your regards,” Remus said, two fingers at his brow in a mock salute. 

Lily rolled her eyes, and turned back to Mary and her dorm mates, and smiled a quiet smile as the lock clicked shut behind him. 

... 

"Have you heard anything from home?" James asks the Gryffindor breakfast table the following morning, the weather a steely unhappy grey. "I wrote a week ago, and they haven't written back. I'm worried." 

"It's only been a week, Potter," Marlene said, taking a drink of pumpkin juice. "Too early to be worried." 

James shook his head. "They always write back, something's wrong." 

"What was that what Cauterwal said?" Peter said, taking a bite of toast. "Something about his letters not being answered. It has to be abnormal if it's happened more than once." 

“Could be," Sirius said. "Maybe they're censoring us," 

"What?" Marlene said. 

"What did you write about, Prongs?" 

James cleared his throat, looking surprisingly uneasy. "The normal things, it wasn't anything unusual,"

"Did your dad talk about the war?" 

James' eyes went round. "No, but he did talk about the Ministry. Things are different he said than what they used to be,” 

“Did he explain?” 

“He tries not to worry me,” James explained, and Lupin sighed. 

“Write back,” Mary suggested, her voice perhaps quieter than usual, and her boyfriend gripped her hand. “See you get a reply,” 

James nodded, tucking into his porridge with muted enthusiasm. He took a long drink of tea and stood up, shouldering his school bag. James tried not to look over at Lily, sitting distanced from the group. He had thought they were finally getting somewhere, moving past what had happened, moving forward. Apparently not. 

“See you in Divination, Potter,” 

James waved a hand behind him dismissively, walking with determination towards the door. 

....

Once the bell rang, and breakfast was over, Lily swung her legs over the bench, headed for Muggle Studies. She wasn’t angry, she thought, nor was she upset. She was ruffled and uneasy. Mary was in so much pain, but was it anything to compare with the amount of pain Lupin was in monthly? How could he bear it? 

“You’re Lily Evans, right? Head Girl?” 

Lily looked over at the small clump of girls that surrounded her, uncomfortable but not surprised that she didn’t know a single name amongst them. She wasn’t even sure what house they were in. 

“What?” 

“Your name,” one girl said while many others giggled. Lily sighed. 

“Yes, I’m Lily Evans. What would you like?” 

“You haven’t heard?” Another girl with long dark hair said. “Truly?” 

“Heard what?” 

The giggling reconvened, and Lily groaned. “I have no time for rumours. If what you’re saying has any truth to it, you can—,” 

“Vera saw James Potter snogging Flora Peele in the kitchen corridor,”

“And?” 

“Well, I thought-,” 

“No, no, _you_ thought—,” 

“Look,” Lily said, fighting to keep her patience. “I don’t care what he or anyone else does in their spare time. I have no room for gossip and less for gossipers. Don’t you all have a class to be getting to?” 

The girls dispersed with more speed than was dignified, and Lily shook her head in disbelief before heading to the first class of the day. 

...

Their Muggle studies class was tedious, they had been studying the Muggle judicial system for over a month, and she, as well as much of the N.E.W.T. class, was bored stiff. She tapped her favourite quill against the top of her desk and looked out the windows. It was grey and cold, and the branches of trees snapping against the tallest windows. It had yet to snow, but the rains were falling steadily, making the walls of the castle damp and cold. Lily tried to focus on the subject matter, but the second-hand gossip frustrated her.

If James wanted to snog every girl within reach, he was more than welcome to do so. It had been almost a month since the incident in the Common Room, had she just seen what she wanted to see after she kissed him? Surely he couldn’t have been lying with a blissed-out expression he had after they kissed the first time. She was embarrassed, but she had no reason to be. They had been spreading rumours, nothing more. And since when did she care what other people thought about her?

The bell rang, startling her as well as most of the class. She gathered up her things and made for the door. Since she had dropped Divination, she was in possession of a blessed free period she fully intended to take advantage of.

Lily was just turning the corner towards the marble staircase when Regulus fell in step beside her. 

“Mr. Black,” Lily said cordially, holding out a hand. 

“Miss Evans,” Regulus said with a cool smile, shaking it. She shouldered her book bag, and they took off together up the stairs.

“I found your last Prefect meeting to be particularly well-spoken. Excellent work,” 

“I thank you,” Lily said with an imitated air, bowing slightly at the waist. “Potter found it within himself to be a decent human being for once, to no one’s greater surprise and relief than my own.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Regulus said, “From what I’ve seen, Potter has a better head on his shoulders than you or anyone else for that matter, gives him proper credit for. He’s a Pureblood, and his best friends are my brother, the disowned blood traitor, Lupin, the werewolf and Pettigrew, the little man who follows the rest of you lot around. It truly boggles the mind,” 

Lily’s heart stopped. How had he found out? _When_ had he found out? Oh God, if Remus knew that other people, not just his friends, knew what he was, what would he do? Would he have to leave Hogwarts? 

“You—you, Lupin is _not_,” 

“Isn’t he?” Regulus said, cocking his head. “I’d be shocked if he wasn’t, and even more shocked if you of all people didn’t know. I thought you two were mates?” 

Lily looked over her shoulder and tugged him by his sleeve up the last couple of stairs into an alcove. “Look, Remus is—is,” 

“A werewolf?" Regulus said with a knowing tilt of his head. "Yes. A pothead? Also, yes, smokes more than anyone I’ve ever met. I’ll not be the one to let the cat out of the bag, as it were. He’s a victim of unimaginable trauma; I can’t even fathom what it is to be him. So far as I’m concerned, he can self-medicate however much he likes. They, his transformations that is, must be extraordinarily painful.” 

Lily raised a hand to shake a finger at him and stopped mid-motion, mouth held agape. Did Regulus Black _pity_ him? 

“Yes,” Lily said quietly. "I’m told they are,” 

Regulus cocked his head to the side and nodded, fiddling with his tie the same way Sirius did when he was looking for something to do with his hands. “Don’t be upset, I’m cleverer than your average bear, and it took me nigh on five years to come to this conclusion. His secret is safe with me.” 

“In exchange for what?” 

“Pardon me?” 

“Secrets don’t come by cheaply,” Lily said, trying not to let her panic show. 

“Come now, Evans, aren’t we better friends than that?” 

“I don’t know, are we?” 

Regulus let out a funny little laugh, perfectly suiting him, and setting Lily back a step or two. He patted her on the shoulder and turned to go. 

“Next time you see Potter, tell him to watch his back,” Regulus said offhandedly, stepping back into the corridor. “He lost his shot twice the last practice watching his hoops. My brother won’t always be there to watch it for him.”

Lily raised a hand and watched as Regulus walked down the corridor and out of sight. 

... 

After a nap in Gryffindor Tower, Lily picked up her Astronomy textbook and made her way to the library to study. On the way, she fell in step with Sirius and Lupin, both en route (and keen to share her notes). Lily sat across from the two of them, and they settled into their usual seats and pulled out their books. 

“Where’s Potter?” 

“Eh?” Sirius said, eyes fixed on his essay, looked up and waved his hand dismissively. Lily was struck suddenly by how alike he and his brother were. “Somewhere here about, surprised he isn’t here yet, to be completely honest. The library is a fairly reliable haunt of his,” 

“Can you read this over for me?” Remus asked, and Lily nodded curtly. She tapped her wand on _electrikity_ and changed it to _electricity_ and skimmed the rest for mistakes. 

“I just hope that he’s okay,” Lily said, hoping for a casually dismissive tone. 

“What’s with the sudden sentiment? 

“He’s upset; his parents are older. A lack of correspondence, especially when it arrives in a reliable pattern, could be distressing to him.” 

“So you are warming up to the old dog after all,” Sirius said, leaning his chair back on two legs. “Told you he wasn’t half bad.” He looked at Lupin. “You owe me six Sickles.” 

Lily rolled her eyes. “What did he tell you?” 

“Not as much as those girls did, I swear they are all-knowing.” 

“It’s none of your business,” 

“You’re right; it’s not. I’m not particularly keen on hearing the details either if you don’t mind.” 

“Fine,” Lily said. “And anyway, there isn’t much to tell, so far as he’s concerned.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sirius said, tracing a sentence with his quill. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” 

“Then don’t?” Lupin said with a smirk. 

“I’m not!” 

“If you thought about school work as much as you thought about James Potter we’d be done by now,” 

Lily sniffed and dug for the quill in her bag, intent on finishing her Muggle Studies essay before the end of the break. 

...

Astronomy passed with little incident, both Sirius and Lily had finished their star charts the class before. Due to the particularly unfavourable weather, they were let out earlier than usual and headed first to Arithmancy and then to Care of Magical Creatures.

She tried the ignore the way Snape attempted to catch her eye and went to stand beside Sirius, standing distanced from the group with his Hippogriff, a handsome roan. Snape was sporting a rather nasty cut above his eyebrow with his lip split, and he looked rather forlorn standing beside his mates. 

“Why do you still hold a torch for that bugger?” Sirius said, stroking the Hippogriff’s feathers. “You’re a smart girl; he’s a Death Eater. All the signs are there.” 

“He’s an old friend of mine. Affections don’t die overnight.” 

“They did for me,” Sirius said darkly, pushing over a stone with his foot. The Hippogriff snorted in apprehension, and Sirius cast a quick cleaning spell on his hands before shoving them in his pockets. 

“Why don't you speak to your brother?" 

“I could ask you the same question, Evans," Sirius said, a moody light in his eyes. "Why don't you speak to your sister?" 

"It's complicated," 

"Likewise," Sirius said, tilting his head in agreement. "I ran away at sixteen, moved in with the Potter’s. Been living there ever since.” He paused, considering her. “But that’s none of your business.” 

She laid a hand over his, and he sniffed before wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve. 

“You’re not the only one with problems,” Sirius continued. “You might want to consider other people's problems as equal to your own if you plan to continue being friends with them." He paused, nodding towards Severus “However, in regards to your mate Snape—,” 

“He’s not my mate,”

“No? Could’ve fooled me, you defend him often enough.” Lily shrugged, and Sirius continued. “Now there’s a problem I can’t say I’ve ever had. He called you a slur, a Mudblood,” 

“He wasn’t wrong,” 

“No?” Sirius said, 

“I am, there is no magical blood running through my family tree.” 

“Doesn’t give him a right to call you that,” 

“I have given up caring what other people think of me. I can’t control their thoughts or actions; I can only control my own.” 

“James doesn’t seem to think so,” Sirius said offhandedly, running a hand over his forehead and then reaching his hand into the bag for a piece of meat to feed their Hippogriff. “He told me, Snape tried to warn James off of you, something about your weak femininity left you unable to make good decisions.” 

“That so?” 

Sirius shrugged, gesturing towards Snape. “Snivellus got a good knocking down because of it. Think what you’d like of James, but he has your best interests at heart.” 

“I can’t believe this,” Lily said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I need to talk to him, cover for me?” 

Sirius nodded, and Lily tidied her own hands before retrieving her things and leaving the class behind. 

...

Lily walked quickly, feet slipping through the mud and loose grass on the path back the castle. It had started raining again, and before long, the rain had soaked her to the skin. As she walked, her frustration and anger grew; not only had he broken his promise, but he’d fought, _physically fought_, another student in the corridor! Was he a child? 

And all of this defending her honour bullshit, when would the assembled male company realize that the only one who knew what was best for her was her? She found him in the courtyard, looking cool as you please, and when she approached, he had the nerve to smile at her. 

“Evans,” he said, leaning against a stone pillar in the courtyard, a cigarette loose between his lips.

"You fought Snape?” Lily said pointedly, fire in her eyes. 

“It was less than he deserved,” James replied, recrossing his arms, looking irritatingly non-perturbed. 

“You are seventeen years old,” Lily exploded, and the students milling around turned in alarm. “Snape has done nothing to you! Nothing! All you do is torture him!” 

“'That so,” James said, snuffing out his cigarette under his shoe.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” 

“James Fleamont Potter,” James said with a little bow.

“What, so now you’re infallible? 

James shrugged. “So far,” 

“You make me sick,” Lily said, sticking a finger in his face. “You are the person everyone says you are. James _fucking_ Potter, the arrogant toerag who worries about nothing and nobody but himself.” 

“Might want to consider pulling that stick from your ass before you mess with things you don’t understand,” James said, standing taller. 

“What did you just say to me?” 

“That you must be forgetting, _sweetheart_,” James said, stepping forward, closer than they had any right to be to one another. “That you know fuck nothing about him,”

“Is that a fact?” 

“That you have a stick up your ass? Course it is,” 

A few people laughed, and Lily glared at him with increasing intensity. 

“Severus was—,” 

“A childhood mate, the one who dropped a tree branch on your sister when you were little. The one who tried to make you a Slytherin so you would be together at school. Snape, the fuckwad who called you a _slur_ because he was flustered.” 

“Because you were torturing him! _Again! _It’s just games for you!” 

“And what does that say about you, Evans? Miss Prim and Proper Head Girl? You must love him _fiercely_ to defend him the way you do,” 

“I don’t love him!” 

“Yes, you do!” James said. “It’s the only explanation! You’ve laid it out in black and white, sweetheart. You’re using me! To get on with Snape! I fucking _knew_ it!” 

They hadn’t noticed how quiet the courtyard had become until they turned around to see a tight mouthed Minerva McGonagall standing in the doorway.

... 

Their appointment with their Head of House was a quick one. She had multiple first-hand accounts not only of the fight between James and Snape, as well as the numerous verbal altercations between the two of them. She was well prepared, and James was well and thoroughly embarrassed. He tried to defend himself; he was standing up for Lily’s honour! Wasn’t that worth something? 

Apparently not. 

McGonagall walked them to Gryffindor tower, where they had fifteen minutes to pack their things in preparation for their new shared dormitory. 

All of James’ dorm mates were in class, and their shared dormitory looked emptier now than it ever had been. He removed his broom from its hook on the wall and begun packing his trunk. 

Did Lily still fancy Snape? God knows what she saw in him; maybe it was like a pity case; she just felt bad for him, her poor best mate from childhood. That must be it, it wasn’t like he was anything pretty to look at, nor particularly gifted in anything besides making a fool out of himself. James was just pulling his favourite Puddlemore United jersey from under his bed when Sirius skidded into the dorm. He exclaimed, through multiple attempts at catching his breath, that he was the one who had told Lily about his fight with Snape. He was so sorry; he thought that James had told her. It was all his fault. 

“How long do you have to stay there?” Sirius said, sitting next to him on the floor. 

“I dunno,” James said, trying not to look as defeated as he felt. “McGonagall didn’t say. She was pissed, mate.” 

“We’ll visit,” Sirius said earnestly. “Every day, as often as we can. We’ll sneak out, just the four of us, like old times. It’s not forever; we can get you through this.” 

“She hates me, and just when I thought we were getting somewhere, we fight. Why do I still fancy her when she hates me? Does that make me a sadist?” 

“No,” Sirius said, his mouth tight. “No, of course not.” 

“You sure?” 

“I mean I think so, apparently you’re the infallible one, so you tell me,” 

James cracked a smile. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to be trapped in there with Evans. It was only a punishment if he looked at it that way.

Ten minutes later, James said goodbye to Sirius and cast a levitation charm on his trunk for the journey down to the sixth floor. 

He met Lily and McGonagall there, both with terse expressions, and listened while McGonagall reminded them of the password (_Noble_) and reinforced the notion that the duration of their banishment, sorry _temporary incarceration_, rested entirely in their hands. 

She opened the door, sighed and left them to their own devices, the lock clicking shut behind her. 

...

James and Lily spent the next few hours steadily ignoring the other. Both of them had finished their classes for the day, leaving little reason to go anywhere. The dormitory itself was bigger than James remembered it being, a comfortable sized Common Room, a shared toilet, and two single dormitories. A silent argument had broken out in who got which room, James offering the larger of the two to Lily, who, while seething silently, walked towards the smaller one and slammed the door behind her. The bed wasn’t half bad, James thought, bigger than the ones in Gryffindor tower, nearly as comfortable as his own at home. The view was unusual; they looked over a corner of the Quidditch pitch and the southernmost edge of the loch. 

He was angry, and he supposed he had the right to be angry. While McGonagall hadn't said it outright, he knew she was considering taking him off the team. That perhaps was the crux of it all, he had done nothing but defended her honour and took down a Death Eater and was being _punished_ for it.

James looked down at his watch, the suns and stars shining and groaned. It was nearly dinnertime, and that meant he’d have to see her again. James sat up, (never one to miss a meal, if he had any say in it) and pulled one of his father’s cardigans. The temperature had been steadily dropping over the past few hours, and this soft woollen thing always reminded him of home. He turned into the shared Common Room, and upon finding it empty hand a moment of brief hesitation in front of Evans’ door. Should he ask her to come down? Would she even answer for him? 

He held his hand over the door, and sighed, dropping it walked alone towards the Great Hall. 

His mates were sympathetic, but throughout dinner, Marlene and Alice sent him suspicious glares overtop of cottage pie and Yorkshire puddings. Much to Sirius’ bemusement, he loaded a plate with things he knew she liked, steak and kidney pie, roasted potatoes and a generous spoonful of lemon curd before making his way back to his dormitory. 

To his great surprise, she was sitting beside the hearth when he returned, armed in her jim-jams and tortoiseshell reading glasses. He moved slowly, as if not to spook her, and set the plate on the coffee table. 

“I didn’t see you at dinner,” he said quietly, fussing with his hair. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. 

“Oh!” He said nervously, pulling a napkin out of his pocket. “Cutlery. Do you want some pumpkin juice? Or coffee? Or—or what about Firewhiskey? I'm sure I could find some. I know, I know you like _that_,” 

“This is fine, thank you,” 

"Okay,” 

There was an uneasy silence as Lily began tucking into her dinner. 

“I’m—,” he began.

“No, I’m sorry.” Lily sighed and took off her glasses before tapping her hand lightly on the sofa beside her. With no small amount of trepidation, he sat, acutely aware of how close he was to her. “I was angry. I goaded you on and had no right to. So I’m sorry,” 

James nodded, sitting very still. “I’m sorry too, for what its worth. I promised I would stop fighting in public, and I didn’t. That’s my fault.” 

“It’s not like I made it easier,” James said quietly.

“For God’s sake, Potter, can you not take an apology when it comes?” 

There was a loaded silence for a moment or two, and then she laughed, a bright and joyful sound and his spirits lifted. Maybe everything wasn't lost after all. She laughed and then snorted, and suddenly they _both_ were laughing, laughing so hard that they couldn’t stop, longer than he had in a good long while. Lily had tears rolling down her cheeks, and without thinking, he ran his thumbs down her cheeks and wiped them away. She froze, her heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it, and she _wanted_ to, damn it. She wanted to kiss him, wanted to more than she had ever wanted to kiss somebody.

_He fought with Snape. Split his lip, bruised his cheekbone. And not only that,_ she thought,_ but he’s also__ seeing another woman. _

She hesitated, and stood up quickly, startling James and upsetting her plate. 

“I can’t do this,” 

“What?” 

“_This!”_ She said, gesturing between the two of them. “I can’t do this! we can’t fight and snog in the same conversation!” 

“What are you talking about?” James said, rising. She took a couple of steps backward, and he sighed. “I'm sorry I shouldn’t have touched you.” 

“God, it wasn’t _touching,_ it was the way you looked me, and all I could think about was if you looked at _her_ that way too.” 

"Who?” 

Lily punched him in the shoulder, and James exclaimed in pain. “What the hell was that for?!” 

“Did you or did you not snog Flora Peele in the kitchens corridor?” 

“Of course not!” 

“Then you wouldn’t mind explaining why I’ve heard rumours from _several_ different people and whispers about you taking up with her?” 

“Why do you care who I _'t__ake up with?’_” James countered, standing taller. “So far as I’ve heard, you’re perfectly happy keeping things just the way they are!” 

“Don’t you mix up my words into something they’re not!” Lily said, crossing her arms. “You know perfectly well what I meant,” 

“Tough chance of that, sweetheart,” James said. “Despite what people might say, I can’t read minds,” 

“Don’t call me that,” 

“Then why is it that you seem to care so much?” James said, stepping forward, closer than they had been in a month, since that Friday night on the sofa in the Gryffindor Common Room. He stared down at her with thoughts chasing one another like wildfire in his mind. She was jealous, well and truly jealous, and he _revelled_ in it. Did she, could she—

“You’re making a fool of yourself,” Lily said, fighting to keep eye contact. The look in his eyes was so intense; she wanted so badly to look away, to distract herself from the way her heart thumped and pounded whenever she saw him, whenever they spoke, whenever his name was spoken. Was he, did he—

“I didn’t snog her; I didn’t even touch her,” James said. 

“Oh,” 

“What, _oh_. You’ve known me for seven years, and you think I’m one to, you know...” 

“Window shop?” 

James rolled his eyes. “I didn't kiss her; I didn't kiss anybody. The last person I kissed was you," 

Lily's heart leapt, beating faster and faster. “Then, where did the rumour come from?” 

“I bumped into her,” James said, “I was heading down to the kitchens, and she was there. Exploring, she said. I was distracted, thinking about something else.” He paused, looking her over carefully. "Since when do you care what other people think of you?” 

“I don’t,” Lily said, a little too quickly. 

“You _do_,” he said, stepping forward once more. “You _do_ care,” James took one of her hands in his own, and she flinched at his touch. His hands were warm and calloused and comforting. “I don’t think I said more than three sentences to her, something about secret passages.”

“Oh,” Lily said, the energy of the moment deflating.

“What did you expect me to say?” James said, matching her intensity and squeezing the little hand in his, she was so cold, so fragile. “That I found a new bird to shag?” 

“I don’t know; I can’t read minds,” 

James lifted the hand not holding hers and brushed it against her cheek and smiled as she leaned into his touch. All the righteous anger left and was replaced by something that could snap at any moment, could melt into the floor like water. She looked at him in a way James hadn’t seen in a month, in a way that had kept him up at night thinking of the way her lips felt under his own, how soft she was, how _willing_ she was, how far he could’ve gone with her if he wasn’t the noble bastard he always was. If he had snapped if he had given in to her, where would they be now? 

“James...” she whispered, her fingers grabbing the hem of his cardigan and pulling him closer. “James, please,” 

“Please, what?” 

“I don’t like you seeing other girls,” 

James’ heart pounded, and he could feel all of her, every curve, she was pressed so closely. 

“I’m not, I—I couldn’t, not when—,” 

“Not when?” 

“I couldn’t,” James said, swallowing, his eyes trained on hers. “Even when I was seeing other girls, it wasn’t them who kept me up at night, all I thought about, all I could think about, was _you_,” 

They surged together, teeth clacking, noses bumping, fingers tangling in one another’s hair. James pulled away, and Lily chased him, kissing him in a way that his mind went blank, and all that was left was the feel of her, the smell of her hair, the softness of her skin. He kissed the freckle just to the left of her cheekbone, her nails digging further into the base of his neck. 

James smiled into her lips and picked her up, heart thumping as her legs wrapped around his hips. He had dreamt about this day since fourth year when girls suddenly became more than a subject of crude fascination. They were so _soft_, with so many curves to explore and enjoy, and he was captivated with them. He wondered with his mates what it would be like to hug a girl, what kissing might be like, what breasts would feel like in his hands. And here he was, no less randy than he was all those years before; kissing the living daylights out of Lily Evans, hands dangerously close to the only place he had never been bold enough to reach for. 

And they were alone, well and truly alone—no supervision, no one but them, with two empty beds just down the hall. 

_Goddamn_, he wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t prepared, what was he thinking? 

Lily tangled her hands around his tie, pulling at the knot, pushing his father’s sweater down his arms. James tensed into her kiss, his mind spinning a million miles an hour, he shouldn’t be doing this, not again. But she was so soft, so willing, and Merlin, was she taking his clothes off? 

Lily twisted her legs to land herself higher on his hips, and as he panted into her shoulder, she took the opportunity to kiss his collarbone, that freckle above his left eyebrow. 

She nipped at his collarbone once his tie slid to the ground between them, and he groaned into her shoulder, fingers playing with the buttons of her pyjama top. He stopped, rested his forehead on her chest as he caught his breath, and Lily panicked, separating them. 

“I—I can’t,” 

“What?” James said between breaths. 

“James, I can’t. It’s not; it’s not right. Not yet.” 

“No, don’t think,” he said, running his fingernails down her back in a way that turned her brain to mush. “Stop thinking, It’ll ruin it, just relax,” James leaned forward and kissed her firmly, pulling her hair out of its braids with his fingers, she sighed, and he pulled her closer, closer than they had ever been before, and when they pulled apart, she looked well and thoroughly _snogged. _Lips swollen and red, pupils blown, breath rising in pants.

Had she kissed Snape like this? Had she met up with him and kissed him in some abandoned classroom, did he known what she looked like, like _this?_ Dishevelled and panting? Had she kissed Snape the way she kissed him? 

Lily moved to come together again when he stopped her, a hand against her shoulder with his eyes not quite meeting her own. And when he spoke, he spoke quietly.

“Are you seeing Snape?” 

Lily snapped her eyes open, taking a step back in surprise. “What're you on about?"

“Snape,” James said, his eyes looking down at his feet. “I saw the two of you together, are you seeing Snape?” 

“What the hell, Potter!” Lily exclaimed, her blouse still half unbuttoned, the pale pink cup of her bra just visible, and he swore he stopped breathing. How many others had she let see her like this? Had Snape seen? 

The thought put a nasty taste in his mouth, he didn’t want Snape anywhere near her, let alone be allowed to see her like, like _this_, flushed and panting and undressed, bits of lipstick on the corners of her mouth. Hair everywhere, looking thoroughly kissed, and the part of him that was entirely male puffed up at the thought of being the only one to see her _en deshabille_. It was so intimate, so sacred, and he didn’t want to be the one who mucked it up.

“I thought you trusted me!” 

“I only trust people I love,” 

“Well, you did say that you loved me,” Lily shot back with malice. 

James froze, his limbs tight. “Don’t you dare put this on me,” he said in a forcibly quiet voice, his words loaded. “You want to talk about that night?”

“Well, maybe I do!” 

“Tough chance of that, sweetheart,” James said, turning around. “I won’t make the mistake of trusting you again,” 

"I can’t remember you hesitating before snogging the living daylights out of me.” Lily shot back, and James stopped in his tracks. 

“You took advantage of me,” James said, his back turned to her. “You exploited me, knew that I fancied you and used it to your advantage. If I had any sense, I'd hate you for it,” 

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean to—,” 

“No?” James said, facing her with tears in his eyes. “Then why did you do it, if you don’t care for me at all?” 

“I do! I _do_ care for you!” 

“As more than a friend? More than an acquaintance? What the _hell_ is this, Evans? I don’t do no attachments.” 

“I don’t know! Why does everything need labels with you?” 

“I need to know where I stand!” James exclaimed. “I need to know that we’re on equal ground! That our feelings are out in the open, and we’re both on the same page!” 

“Aren’t we?” 

“Aren’t we what?” James said, his face red as he paced back and forth.

“On the same page?” 

“No! I have no idea what’s going on in that head of yours,” 

Lily turned around, her breath loud as she collected her thoughts. “I want it to be easy. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be easier, come naturally. But it doesn’t! All we ever do is snog and fight! I can’t do this anymore!” 

“Then don’t!” James shot back. “If I’m too much work for you, then shack up with Snape for all I care!” 

“Maybe I will!” 

“But don’t come crying to me, _sweetheart,_ when he turns Death Eater and plays the victim with you. You’ve known what he was all along and do it anyway!” James shook his head, turning away. "You’re unbelievable."

They stood in silence, the emptiness like a loaded gun. James wiped away his tears as they fell and tried to ignore the silent sobs coming from the other end of the room. Maybe they weren't meant to be after all. 

"For however long it lasted, it was a privilege to matter to you,” James said quietly. “Even if it was for a short time, or no time at all," 

Lily looked down at her feet, gritting her teeth. She heard him sigh, then walk to and out the door and out of sight. 


	7. Let Me Sow Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday morning dawns bright and early with a surprise visitor from the Ministry of Magic.

**Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,**   
**Where there is hatred, _let me sow love._**   
**Where there is injury, pardon.**   
**Where there is doubt, faith.**   
**Where there is despair, hope.**   
**Where there is darkness, light.**   
**And where there is sadness, joy.**

**-The Prayer of St. Francis**

**...**

Pale morning light shone through the thin curtains surrounding her four-poster, and Lily blinked, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings. She was in a bed, was it somebody else’s bed? Why wasn’t she in her bed?

Everything came back to her in a sickening wave, and she rubbed her eyes as if she could scrub away the memories of last night. She kissed him, no, she _snogged_ him within an inch of his life. Lily dropped back into her pillows with a sigh. She’d said some things too, things she didn’t entirely mean, and she dreaded seeing him again, knowing that they’d have to face it, whatever this was, whenever they saw each other next. 

Her belly rumbled, and she groaned, rolling over. Other than the two bites of Yorkshire Pudding she had before tipping the plate, she hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before and was in desperate need of both bacon and coffee. Maybe she could ask a house-elf, but she’d still have to leave her dormitory to do so. 

_So much for a lie-in_, she thought, tipping herself out of bed and making her way to her trunk. Even with the ample time she had yesterday afternoon, she had yet to unpack, and rifled through her things in search of something to wear. Lily was never one for the fuss and bother of fashion; she preferred something comfortable and colourful rather than put together or fashionable. She opened the lid, and observed the chaos, and first dug deep into her toiletries bag for a scrunchie before facing the rest of it. 

Hair (untidily) secured, she wedged her fourth-year Herbology textbook to one side and cringed as she felt the distinct _crunch_ of a breaking ink bottle. She sat back, defeated, and reached for her wand to clean it up. 

Amelia was the expert at Charms. Had she been here, it would’ve been a much neater and faster job, but after a minute or two, she had repaired the glass, and the ink was back in its bottle. Having learned her lesson, she moved her textbooks out of her trunk and onto the desk beside the window. But her hands were another ordeal altogether, littered with both ink stains and the chalky residue that lined the bottom of her trunk. 

She once again pulled out her toiletries bag and made her way to the toilet to start her day. 

Having shared a loo with women for the majority of her life, she didn’t think to knock before entering and was startled by the sudden appearance of James in his pants with a razor in his hands. 

“Oh!” She said, and he blushed to his eyebrows. “I’ll just leave this here,” she said, placing the cloth bag on the corner of the sink. “I didn’t mean to intrude; I didn’t think—,” 

“No, it’s fine,” James said, putting the razor down and picking up a brush coated in a fluffy white substance as Lily struggled to hold eye contact. “It’s fine; you don’t have to leave. I’ve almost finished this, anyway.”

“I just need to wash my hands,” she said, trying not to stutter before turning on the tap. James shifted to one side and carefully coated his jaw, chin, and cheeks in what she assumed to be shaving foam. 

“I broke a bottle of ink,” she said nervously, patting her hands dry on a hand towel. 

James looked over at her in apparent distress then rushed to look at her hands, turning them gently to look at her palms as well. “Did you cut yourself?” 

She pulled back her hands jerkily. “No, no. I just wanted to get the grittiness of the bottom of my trunk off of my hands before I eat.” 

James nodded and fiddled with his razor before turning away and back towards the mirror. 

Lily looked over the loo, the single vanity and claw foot tub took up most of the space, but it was neat, well and truly. James’ effects (mostly labelled glass bottles, as well as an antique silver shaving set) were lined up in a row on the shelf above the toilet. She looked down at her toiletries (mismatched Muggle and wizard, earrings tangled with hair ties and necklaces, a broken compact of her mother’s, half-empty perfume bottles) and blushed to her eyebrows. She decided that the best course of action would be a swift and steady exit before she either revealed all her secrets or spontaneously burst into flames.

She leaned forward impulsively and opened the drawer attached to the vanity, unaware of how close James was to the mirror. He jumped, causing the razor to slip along his jaw. 

“Shit!” he exclaimed, one hand on his chin as he felt the blood beginning to ooze. 

“Oh! I am sorry,” Lily said, reaching around for a tissue. “Here, apply pressure. I’ll get, I’ll get a soapy cloth ready,” 

“A what?” James said, sticking the tissue under his hand. 

“A cloth with soap on it,” Lily said hurriedly, rubbing a face cloth with what appeared to be James’ lemon verbena bar soap. 

“I’ve just never had the pleasure of someone offer me a soapy cloth before,” 

Lily rolled her eyes, running the cloth under the tap before applying it to his jaw. “I think this is your fault. Who shaves with a straight blade?” 

“Excuse you, dignified men do, thank you very much,” James said, swallowing as she applied the cloth to his cut. “Ouch, no, I’m okay. Don’t fuss. The razor is my dad’s, he taught me how to shave with it, and I’ve never used anything else.” 

“Well, it’s just as well,” Lily said with what she hoped to be a no-nonsense tone. “You can hold that, and I can brush my teeth.” 

James watched with bemusement bordering on endearment as she bustled about the small toilet. Her jimjams were different than the ones she was wearing last night, this morning it was a thin white nightgown with sleeves past her elbows. Her hair was everywhere, curls held in a knot at the top of her head with a piece of colourful knotted fabric. And if he looked closely enough, he could just about see—, no, no, he couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Even though she was right in front of him, he couldn’t look, wouldn’t. He wasn’t a peeping tom, no sir. Let boys grow into men. 

But it was domestic, this co-habitation thing, and he was _loving_ it. Perhaps it was something he’d see more often, this sleepy-eyed nightgown donned version of Lily Evans. He didn’t care much for the rowing portion of continued proximity, but the kissing, the bed hair, oh_ yes, _that he loved very much. 

Her toiletries bag, much like her school bag, was overly full and un-organized. She piled a small army of colourful bottles in the medicine cabinet before locating a bright pink toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. 

“You can probably take it off now,” Lily said with a mouth full of foam. “See if it’s still bleeding,” 

James pulled the cloth away, the bright red stain alarming, but thankfully the cut wasn’t deep. It would heal without magical intervention in a day or so. 

Lily spat into the sink and rinsed her face before taking the cloth from James and Vanished the stain. She paused, tapping her wrist gently with her wand in a nervous way. “Shall I?” 

“It should be fine,” James said, looking at his reflection in the mirror with practiced scrutiny. “No harm is done.”

Lily nodded, put her toothbrush down on the vanity before picking it up again, and made for the door. 

“You can stay, honestly,” James said, looking at her in the doorway. “Lily, I don’t mind.” 

“I’m not... interrupting?” 

James laughed, pulling a bottle of pale pink liquid down and pouring a bit into his hands. “Not in the slightest.” 

Lily rested one hand on the doorframe, watching James’ reflection in the mirror. This pretty boy act was very well-practiced; he had more products than she did. But he was always rather pressed and polished, wasn’t he? Fresh shave, even collars, perfectly imperfect hair—

“Nice jimjams,” James said, walking over and bumping her hip with his, much to her surprise. “They look very _maternal_,” 

“Oh shut up,” she said, pushing him off. 

“Do you and Minnie have a matching set?” he said, rinsing his face off and drying it on his shirt. “Shopping at the old lady’s shop?” 

“I do apologize for not pulling out the lingerie,” Lily said, matching his tone. “It’s still with Arthur, I’m afraid,” 

James sputtered, his eyes wide with shock. God, had she _slept_ with him? “It’s _where_?” 

Lily feigned a deep and purposeful thought process before continuing. “Under the bed, maybe? Could’ve been behind the wardrobe. I don’t know. Honestly, it was _quite_ the night.” 

“You—_you_,” 

Lily laughed at the sight, James Potter with bits of toothpaste in his hair and an incredulous look on his face. 

“Oh, honestly, James. Where on earth would _I_ get lingerie? This is the best one can hope for, nighties and sleep sets from Selfridge’s.”

“Is there something to hope for?” James said with a sideways grin, matching her tone, flicking the lace on her sleeve. 

“Don’t push your luck,” 

“What? Are you not one for Parisian negligees? Who would’ve thought, Miss dungarees and chucks?”

“I’ve grown out of my French phase, as it were,” 

“You are something else, Lily Evans. Something else indeed.” 

James picked up a comb and smiled as Lily did the same. He put a bit of product in (and tried not to blush when Lily noticed his father’s name on the bottle), and when the comb caught in a particularly knotty section of hair, she helped him, brushing through the tangles with a gentle hand. 

Lily returned her hairbrush to the shelf and stepped back as James did the same.

“Truce?” He said unexpectedly, holding out a hand. “I know we haven’t been having an easy go of it, but it’s a new day, a fresh start.” 

Lily smiled, taking it. “Truce.” 

“And I promise you only have to snog me once a day,” James said, one hand on the doorknob. “But I expect a good and thorough one, you understand?” 

Lily nodded a funny little nod and smiled widely as the door opened and shut behind him and his (frankly) glorious arse. 

She paused and turned back to her reflection in the mirror. Was this who she was now? A flirt? She had always flirted to James to some extent, but never like this. Never on purpose, just for laughs and the excuse for an extra glance spared in his general direction. 

And for what, exactly? Did she want to get on with him? Date him? Lily groaned, resting on her elbows on the vanity and looking up at the mirror. 

She wasn’t anything particularly exotic to look at (wavy hair, wide-set eyes, a knot of freckles on her nose), but there was something to be said for her complexion, the smooth skin, and lots of it. She was tall, taller than Petunia, but still several inches shorter than James. She looked up to him, both literally and figuratively, she supposed. Her hair was long and thick, and as she grew older, it had evolved from vibrant ginger to a more muted auburn. She has always loved the little dip between her collarbones, the way her ears curved like the inner parts of a seashell, the high arch of her eyebrows. Lily smiled into the mirror and took a deep breath, preparing for the day ahead.

She turned out of the bathroom, a smile on her face and returned to her dormitory intent on nothing less than the comfortable Muggle clothes she wore on the weekends. The dungarees were her mothers, thick corduroy in a pale yellow cord that she had worn on Saturday mornings for as long as she could remember. She slipped on a pair of trainers and made for the door, where James was waiting, also wearing Muggle clothes. 

“Ready, milady?” he said, offering her a hand. 

“Always,” 

...

Breakfast was a cheery affair, with all four house tables talking and gossiping over the regular tea and toast. Robin took a bite of bacon, sitting with her dorm mates and squinted at the high table where a strange man sat with the rest of the teachers. She wasn’t wearing her glasses and poked Eileen Crump to see who it was. 

“Dunno,” she said in response, sitting up taller on the bench. “It’s a tall bloke in black robes,” 

“Have you ever seen him before?” 

“Can’t say I have, no,” 

As much to her surprise as to anyone else’s, Dumbledore rose from his seat and walked to the podium. 

“What’s he on about?” Lara Simpson whispered from beside her. 

“I dunno,” 

“A hearty good morning to all,” Dumbledore said, waiting a moment or two for silence to fall. “I am pleased to announce to you all that the Ministry of Magic has seen fit to place members of their own throughout Hogwarts for the foreseeable future.” Those assembled within the Great Hall gasped, and whispers broke out among the four house tables. “Due to the unfortunate climate we find ourselves in, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will spend a fortnight at Hogwarts to gain a better sense of Hogwarts’ magical defences. May I introduce to you all Mr. Bartemius Crouch, and may his time at Hogwarts be an enlightening one.” 

A tall, slightly balding man stood, sporting a neat toothbrush mustache and black wizarding robes. He neither waved nor smiled, and the applause that followed was halfhearted and rather short-lived. But the mood of the Great Hall had changed, the happy laughter had given way to anxious whispers and charged stares at those assembled. 

“The Aurors are one thing,” Robin said conspiratorially. “No one ever sees them, hiding on the edges of the forest. But the Head of Magical Law Enforcement? What the hell is Dumbledore playing at?” 

“Maybe it wasn’t his decision,” Lara said, “Maybe he was forced into it.” 

“What business does the Ministry have in interfering at Hogwarts?” Eileen said in a whisper. “Do you think You Know Who has followers here?” 

The trio looked around in apprehension, but the Great Hall and all who occupied it looked much the same as they always did. But there was an air of suspicion upon a second glance; even she had noticed the increased hostility between Slytherin and the other three houses. Robin didn’t honestly think that He Who Must Not Be Named had Death Eaters here, it was impossible, but Dumbledore would’ve found them if there was. But then why was Mr. Crouch called, if not for a more serious matter than what was said?

“Maybe it’s just a routine thing,” Robin said, the sound of many wooden benches scraping against the flagstones muffling her voice. “Like a checkup.” 

“By the Head of Magical Law Enforcement? Have you ever heard of such a thing?” 

“Well, no,” Robin said, her eyebrows creasing. “But if Dumbledore authorized it, and hasn’t said anything remotely suspicious about it...” 

“Exactly,” Eileen said, pulling on her coat. “My father works for—,” 

“The Ministry, we _know,” _

“_And_, he would’ve told me ages ago if someone like Mr. Crouch was coming. Or if anything was wrong. Since he didn’t, it’s most likely because there isn’t. Nothing to be worried about.” 

There was a moment of silence as Lara looked suspiciously over the hall once more before getting up from the bench herself to begin the day.

...

“What about what Dumbledore said?” Marlene asked from further down the Gryffindor table. “The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement doesn’t get called to Hogwarts on a whim,” 

“I suppose Dumbledore has his reasons,” Mary said slowly. 

“Are his reasons to rein in those Aurors hiding in the forest around the loch?” Marlene said with a sardonic smile. “It’s like they think You Know Who is hiding behind a tree,” 

“Maybe not him,” Sirius said, “but I wonder if he’s been recruiting, for the Death Eaters,” 

“Do you honestly think so?” Peter said, his face peaked. “Death Eaters? At Hogwarts?” 

“Keep your voice down, for Merlin’s sake,” Remus said, turning to face Sirius. “It’s possible; there have been rumours for a while about school-age recruitment. The war is getting worse with every coming day, he’ll need reinforcements,” 

“I didn’t think it was as bad as that,” Peter said, and Mary patted his hand consolingly. 

“There’s a war on, Pete,” Sirius responded. “Things are never going to be the same as they once were.” 

Lily took one last bite of egg on toast before being pulled to one side by Marlene and Alice; the others focused on perhaps more severe matters. 

“So how’d it go?” 

“How did _what_ go, Mars?” 

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Marlene responded, sitting astride a bench while Alice looked on with wide eyes. “Did you or did you not shag the living daylights out of James Potter?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lily said, glancing over to where she knew James was sitting with the Marauders, a sly grin on his face. “And anyway, he has a better memory than I do,” 

“Well?” Marlene said, looking over to James. 

“Nothing to report, Alice,” he said, leaning over with the air of feigned authority. “I’ll keep you updated.” 

“There you go,” Lily said, adjusting the strap of her dungarees. “It isn’t so bad; he doesn’t leave his socks all over the place like a certain someone I could name,” 

“Socks are nothing,” Amelia said from down the table. “I swear the dormitory has never been this quiet before.” 

The girls roared with laughter, and Lily rolled her eyes.

“And that damned cat of yours must’ve been roaming the castle looking for you because I finally slept in,”

“He’s a darling if you took the chance to know him,” Lily said. “Instead of locking him up in small spaces all the time.” 

“C’mon Lils, he’s a right devil, and you know it,” 

“What about Ingrid?” 

“What about her?” 

“Have we already forgotten the time that your ‘cat’ shredded my potions homework?” 

“That’s nothing,” Marlene said from behind her. “She took up business, as it were, on my _bed! _In second year! That damnable creature has done more harm than she’s worth.”

“That was a complicated bit of magic, there, I’ll have you know,” Alice stage whispered while the others laughed, so tears ran down their cheeks. “Still can’t bark to save her life, poor thing,” 

Suddenly, the conversation around the table slowed to silence, and Lily followed Marlene’s line of sight and looked up in confusion. “Oh, don’t stop on account of me,” Dumbledore said kindly, his eyes twinkling, “But I do require Miss Evans and Mr. Potter for a certain matter,” 

Lily turned to look over at James, who seemed as confused as she was, and followed Dumbledore as he led them out of the Great Hall. 

... 

“My announcement this morning might have come as a shock,” Dumbledore said as they walked. “I do apologize for that. In less tumultuous times, the Head Boy and Girl often aid the Headmaster in decisions regarding the student body,” 

“I understand, sir,” James said, walking faster to match Dumbledore’s brisk pace, and Lily took a skip jump to catch up. 

“I thank you,” Dumbledore responded, leading them up a flight of stairs. “The pair of you have not had, as one could say, an easy way of it.” 

Lily exhaled. “We come from two very different backgrounds, but have recently, very recently, come to an understanding,” 

“Wonderful! Cooperation between the Head Boy and Girl is paramount to a successful Headship. But you must be curious, as I would be in your places, about the nature of my unusual summoning,” 

“Sort of,” James said, and Lily elbowed him in the side with a sideways glance. 

“Bartemius Crouch is a man with extraordinary influence over the Ministry, and in such a time as this, keeping with the status quo is of increasing importance, which is where the Ministry steps in.”

“Yes I imagine it would,” Lily said, feeling James’ gaze on her. 

Dumbledore led them through corridor after corridor, up staircases to presumably the Headmaster’s office. While they walked, Lily tried to ignore the flush on her face, uncomfortable at the way a look from him could leave her all hot and bothered. He was wearing another cardigan, a deep emerald that brought out the dark tones in his eyes. His fingers, ever fidgeting, crossed and uncrossed outside of his apparent notice. She had spent many an idle hour admiring those hands from afar, long-fingered and slender, a thin wrist leading to an increasingly muscular forearm. But that was before he kissed her; before she knew what those hands would feel like tangled in her hair, how her breath would catch when he pulled her onto his hips, closer into his arms.

But here they were, walking side by side, but all that easiness they had reached this morning had yet to materialize outside of their dormitory. 

At that moment, she very much so wanted to continue the conversation of this morning. Everything had seemed both so much easier and harder when they were alone. 

Dumbledore led them up one last staircase, and by the time they turned the corner into the Gargoyle corridor, James stiffened beside her, and she looked over at his apparent distress.

Even when she was a Prefect, and before, she had never had a reason for visiting. Dumbledore was, and to some degree, still was a somewhat elevated and separate creature. It wasn’t as if she feared him, but her respect for Professor Dumbledore lay somewhere on the spectrum of the connection she felt for the Queen of England and the Minister for Magic, not someone to love but to see and observe from afar. Someone whose daily doings had little effect on her day to day life. She looked over at him, and was shocked to see him— James Potter, ever the cool and collected one—on the verge of panic. She offered her hand, and he took it, his cool hand slipping into her own. She offered a smile, but his lips were tight, and she squeezed his hand a little tighter. 

She didn’t suppose he and this Mr. Crouch had had any dealings in person, but why else would he have such a reaction? Had Mr. Crouch and his father met? Had something happened? She looked up again, and all emotion had vacated his expression, and she could almost believe she had imagined it. 

“Are you okay?” Lily whispered, and James pulled a half-smile before nodding quietly.

Lily felt oddly nervous, now that it came to it. What did a Minister want from the likes of them? Was Hogwarts under any real danger? Now that his immediate panic had passed, James looked strangely unperturbed at the prospect at a meeting with this Mr. Crouch, but then again, he never was one for elevating those who hadn’t pleased him personally. In James’ mind, respect had to be earned, and while quickly given, was also quickly revoked. James had never been one to lose a sense of oneself in the presence of anyone, and she respected and admired him for it. 

She looked up to say much of the same to James when she spotted a bit of shaving foam behind his left ear and tried to resist a conciliatory laugh at this strange circumstance they found themselves in. 

They waited as Dumbledore said the password (“mint humbug!”) and took the spiral staircase to the door of his office. 

Upon opening the door, Mr. Crouch was seated on one of the squashy armchairs before Dumbledore’s desk. Upon closer inspection, this man was unlike any other she had ever known. Tall and thin, he had a severe haircut and a grave expression that didn’t seem to leave his face. His narrow toothbrush mustache was neatly trimmed, and his shoes were polished to a shine. When she had first seen him this morning, he looked more like a Muggle lawyer or banker than of any magical equivalent. 

“Mr. Potter, Miss Evans, this is Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” 

“Sir,” James said, extending his hand. 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Mr. Crouch said stiffly, rising to shake James’ hand. 

“We’ve already had the pleasure,” James said, stopping mid-shake. “My father has been in and out of the Ministry for years. We’ve attended many of the same functions over the years.” 

“Is that so?” Mr. Crouch said, slightly detached. “Porter, was it?” 

“Potter,” Lily said, perhaps more bravely than she felt. 

“Ah, Potter. The inventor, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“You’re correct,” 

“My wife is fond of your father’s hair tonics,” Mr. Crouch said to James, before turning to Lily. “Miss Evans, was it?” 

“Pleased to meet you,” Lily said, shaking his hand before taking a seat. 

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, steepling his fingers. “The business I have for you today is not of the pleasant sort, but I’ll leave Barty to explain.” 

“Hogwarts is in danger,” Mr. Crouch said starkly, sitting poker straight in his chair. “And while the Ministry has done much in the past months to shield the public from the actions of extremists, it has been in vain. In the past month, there have been over forty-five known Muggle and Muggle-born targeted murders in Surrey, Bath, Sussex and the greater London area. The public knows about three of them. But there has long been evidence that He Who Must Not Be Named is rallying support for his cause within the castle walls. We must act.” 

James’ heart dropped to his stomach. His parents lived in London, were they safe? Was this why they weren’t answering his post?

“What do you suggest?” Lily asked, looking calm and focused, and James tried to steady his racing heart. 

“An enforced curfew,” Mr. Crouch responded, folding one leg over the other. “More Prefect patrols, and if it comes to it, Aurors escorting younger students to classes. The Ministry will provide twenty additional Aurors as early as Monday morning. And Quidditch, of course, must be cancelled until further notice. Perhaps until the end of the war,” 

“You’re going to cancel Quidditch?” James said, his voice rising. “You can’t _cancel_ Quidditch! It’s my last year; I promised Gryffindor we’d win the cup,” 

“Then you made a foolish and presumptuous assumption. Safety is far more important than any sport, both for you and for the students outside of the castle in unsafe conditions.” 

“Dumbledore,” James sighed. “Speak some sense,” 

“I agree with him,” Dumbledore said, and both Lily and James turned to look in shock. “There is more, I’m afraid. It may come as a bit of an unpleasant surprise, but the war has come closer than you may think to the castle’s walls. In the past three weeks, there has been a series of coordinated attacks against Muggleborns in Hogsmeade. While the first attack didn’t claim any lives, the last two did. Fourteen innocent people have been killed, fighting against the swelling armies of Lord Voldemort.” 

“_Fourteen_?” 

“Yes, and until it can be secured, the village itself, as innocuous as it may seem, is out of bounds. Aurors are patrolling the borders and reinforcing the spells protecting it from outsiders. Students are to be confined to the castle until Voldemort’s whereabouts can be discovered.” 

“Do you expect him to be here? This close to Hogwarts?” asked James. 

“Him, being Lord Voldemort?” Mr. Crouch said. 

“Yeah, or any of the Death Eaters?” 

“No, but I expect there are students involved in the Dark Arts, as there always has been. People with inclinations—familial or ideologically—towards Lord Voldemort’s cause.” Mr. Crouch said. “They must be discovered, stamped out and eliminated, and until that is the case, I suggest the steps as mentioned earlier be taken to ensure safety for the innocent. As Head Boy and Girl, there is not much you or any of us can do alone against a force such as the Death Eaters. But steps can and must be taken in the meantime, and I expect them to remain enforced.” 

Mr. Crouch stood, and Dumbledore did as well. “With the panic of the masses continuing to rise, Dementors have been seen with increasing frequency. Perhaps an instructional session on the Patronus charm for the older students would be prudent.” 

“Of course,” Dumbledore said graciously, and bowed at the waist, as Mr. Crouch left his office. 

“He is to stay for a fortnight to ensure our fortifications. Not in suspicion of a full-frontal attack, but in preparation for any circumstance.” Dumbledore turned to face the pair, a look of deep trust on his face. “This is to remain secret, and I entrust you with this knowledge knowing that it will influence your decision making. The announcement about Quidditch cancellation as well as the cessation of Hogsmeade weekends will be posted on Monday morning unless you have any reservations.” 

James sighed, looking down at his hands. “No, of course not,” 

“Miss Evans?” 

“If it’s in everyone’s best interest,” Lily began. “And will protect those who cannot protect themselves, then, of course. I trust your word, Dumbledore,” 

“I’m glad to hear of it,” Dumbledore said, and smiled rather sadly as they left his office. 

... 

“Are you okay?” Lily asked after they left Dumbledore’s office. 

“Barty Crouch’s reputation precedes him,” James explained, hands jammed firmly into the pockets of his cardigan. “My father’s told me stories about his stances against magical creatures, he’s an unfeeling and un-remorseful man, he’d send his own son to Azkaban in the name of justice.” 

“Isn’t he a student here?” 

“His son? I believe so, second or third year. Quiet bloke.”

“What did you think?” Lily said. “About what was said?” 

James turned and faced her, his face tight. “I didn’t know it was as bad as it is,” 

“Well, no one did. It was intentional attacks against Muggleborns, no one’s heard anything to that level of brutality, not yet anyway,” 

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” James said, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “I wish you hadn’t,” 

“They’re in a better place than here, whoever they were,” Lily said sadly. 

“It brings something else to light; however,” James said hesitantly. “About Muggleborns about _you,” _

_“_And what’s that?” 

“That you could be in danger,” James said. “More danger than others for something that you can’t control, and there’s nothing I can do about it,” 

“We can help the Aurors, equip the Prefects,” Lily said, and then paused, taking his hand. “You’ll help no one by making yourself into a martyr, James,” 

“I said nothing of that sort,” 

“No, but you were thinking it,” Lily said. “And now more than ever, we need to stay united. One front, one voice, okay?” 

“Okay,” 

...

The walk back to their dormitory was solemn, and the few students they passed in the corridors steered well clear. The clear skies of a few hours ago had passed over, exchanged for dark steely clouds, and rain had begun to fall, hitting the high windows of the Charms corridor. What Dumbledore and Mr. Crouch had said swam in her head, all those innocent people who had been killed, and for what? To make a point? To eliminate an enemy? They had most likely never even met, murderer and victim, and one is dead, and the other remained at large likely to kill again. It made her sick, the thought of dying, being killed in the street. Where was the justice in that? What was the Ministry doing to stop the Death Eaters? 

“After you,” James said gently, and Lily walked through the door to their dormitory, feeling numb. 

She walked past the little Common Room, the mess of last night cleaned away, and a cheerful fire was crackling in the grate. 

“Can I get you anything?” James said after a moment. 

“No,” Lily said, making to sit on an armchair before changing her mind. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I need to collect my thoughts,” 

“I’ll be here,” James said, rubbing her arms in a way he hoped was consoling. “Right here, if you need me,” 

“Thank you,” Lily said. “But I need to be alone.” 

... 

The afternoon passed slowly, almost agonizingly so, with the remainder of the Gryffindor seventh years sitting in the Common Room chiselling through the mountains of homework they had been assigned over the last week. By the time dinner rolled around, Sirius took off with Lupin and Peter to the Great Hall, but James and Lily were nowhere to be found. He hoped that whatever it was that Ministry bloke had said was positive, but he doubted it. When he asked, Marlene and Alice hadn’t seen them since breakfast either. 

The return to Gryffindor tower was a gloomy one. The weather hadn’t improved, the dense fog and pouring rain instilled a chill around the castle that the fire didn’t seem to cut through. Even with James’ dad’s jumper and three pairs of socks, the cold was steady and getting colder. Sirius, along with the majority of his mates, pulled their textbooks out and resumed what had begun before dinner. But he couldn’t help but worry; it wasn’t like James not to tell him what was on his mind. Even now that Evans was in the picture, it was uncharacteristic. 

“I wonder how they’re doing,” Sirius said, his back on the ground, legs leaning up against Remus’ armchair. 

“...Who?” Remus replied, nose buried in his Herbology textbook hurriedly scribbling on a bit of parchment. 

“Prongs!” 

Remus chuckled, rubbing Sirius’ head absentmindedly. “He’s a big boy, Sirius. I’m sure he’s doing just fine.” 

Sirius glanced down at his watch. It was Mrs. Potter’s brothers, perfectly kept except for a long scratch up the back. Mr. Potter had offered to get it repaired, but Sirius sort of liked it, it added a touch of character. “It’s late; I told him I’d check up on him today.” 

Remus rolled his head back to look over at him. “You realize that they’re most likely shagging,” 

“I bet they’re rowing,” Alice said from the sofa, braiding Marlene’s hair. “But then again, a good row always leads to a thorough shag. You think they’ve done it already?” 

“Gross, Als,” Marlene said, scrunching up her nose. “Have you made any advancements in that particular area I don’t know about?” 

“I thought you were seeing Longbottom,” Remus said. 

“Shh!” Alice said, “Keep your voice down. He’s still with that fourth year, Robin somebody,” 

“As if you don’t know everything there is to know about her,” 

“I don’t know everything, Sirius,” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, before pausing and looking around the Common Room. “Have you seen Mary?” 

“No I haven’t, actually,” Alice said with a different tone. “Amelia neither. Not for, not for _hours_,” 

“Do you think something’s wrong?” Remus said, closing his textbook to catch Alice’s eye. “It’s not like Amelia to be out late,” 

“She’s not one for breaking the rules either,” Marlene said, looking down at her watch. “it’s half eleven, curfew was three hours ago, good God,”

“She’s too smart for anything to happen,” Sirius said absentmindedly. “You lot worry too much.” 

...

Amelia Bones made her way down the Charms corridor, her book bag swinging gently behind her. It was late, late enough for the corridors to be mercifully empty. She looked over her shoulder before pulling her wand out of the pocket of her robes and casting a non-verbal location spell. Her wand hovered, before pointing to a spot just behind her. She swung around quickly, and her eyes widened in surprise before everything went dark. 


	8. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelia Bones is missing. Her last known location is brought to the attention of more than one interested party, and Mary and her mates investigate.

The loch was lovely, Mary thought, despite the weather’s inclination towards the contrary. It was getting late, and the rain was falling steadily without a breath of wind. It had been a long day, and to burn off some steam before bed, she took a walk on the grounds intended for the loch. It might’ve been her favourite part of the grounds if not for the distance between it and the Gryffindor dormitories, the walk alone took upwards of a half-hour. But she had made it, and the distance alone encouraged a lengthy visit. 

The sun was setting, and the brilliant oranges and yellows lit up the horizon, impenetrable even to the voluminous, low hanging clouds. She considered it for a moment, a creeping smile on her face before looking down at her feet. When she was a very small child, she had spent much of her time at the banks of the river behind their home in Belfast, very happily tossing stones towards the bank opposite. Her father encouraged small challenges, closest towards that patch of moss, biggest splash, top points for they who managed the solid _thunk_ of a river stone hitting a fallen tree. It wasn’t until she turned six or seven that her stone seemed to hover in midair before landing with a spectacular splash. Or later, when her mother announced an unexpected pregnancy, every lightbulb in the room burst at once. She loved her parents, truly she did, but when her Hogwarts letter arrived on her eleventh birthday, she didn’t hesitate to embrace this new world with open arms. The day she left Belfast for London wasn’t as emotional as she supposed it should have been. Her mother was enthralled with her brother, her father even more so, not deigning more than a passing kiss and wave goodbye to their firstborn as she left their doorstep forever. 

Or for what felt like forever, Mary decided to stay behind at Hogwarts during the Christmas and Easter hols with her new mates Marlene and Lily Evans, also escaping a problematic home life. She returned home during the summer hols to parents who had not only survived her absence but seemed to have thrived. Her mother had quit her secretarial job to be a full-time mother, something she had always wanted but had needed the money too much to give up even a part-time position. Her brother had started walking, and her da had built a beautiful playroom for him full of new, beautiful things. It took her the better part of that summer to come to grips with the reality that she had been replaced, forgotten about. Her parents swore up and down that nothing had changed, but Mary saw through it, even at twelve years old, she knew it in the deepest parts of her heart. They displayed a halfway sort of love, smiles that almost reached the crinkles at the corners of eyes, laughs that lasted a moment too short, hugs that were too brief to mean much more than a passing thought. Her parents had a son, at long last. A normal son, by all accounts, not one to drain her family’s meagre savings on wands and potion ingredients for some school they had never heard of and were forbidden to speak about with the neighbours.

The ice was thin, and the larger stones she threw broke through with a satisfying crack as the ice split. She wasn’t upset, per se, but the events of the past week truly brought to light that which she would’ve preferred remained below the surface of her subconscious.

The loch was frozen, but the rain had caused an almost pearlescent sheen where the rain had melted away the snow. It was beautiful, in that rugged and wild way Scotland was. A river was spilling its banks past the Quidditch pitch, running wildly over stones and down little waterfalls. She didn’t mind the rain, not truly, it felt nearly euphoric to be standing in a land scrubbed clean and fresh with nothing of before left to tarnish or diminish it. And all alone, out by the loch pouring rain, she felt truly free for the first time in months. Free from her parents, the girls in her dormitory, the business with Lily and James—

At the sound of the next stone falling, a sudden realization hit her, and the shock was more intense than she expected. Lily was gone, in that dormitory with Potter, and it _bothered_ her. Not because they had any deferential friendship, or because she was away, but because Lily had been fool enough to get in trouble in the first place. It was so juvenile, the way she acted around James. He wasn’t a saint and wasn’t even all that attractive when it came down to it. Mary hated the way her friend changed herself when she was around him. She picked up another sizeable stone, rolling the weight of it around in her hands. Lily was level-headed, too smart to be caught up with someone like him, a pretentious playboy with too much time on his hands. Mary had been on his Quidditch team for years, up until her attack two years ago. He was intense, focused on victory of the individual (usually himself) rather than that of the team. Gryffindor had won three championships under him. For what it was worth, he was a solid Chaser, and his team obeyed him without question, but at what cost? 

Mary wasn’t blind; James and Lily had a lot in common. They were both determined, brave, smart, but where James lacked the ignorance of forethought, Lily wanted too badly to please. She wanted the approval and praise of everyone she met, but it wasn’t a bad thing. Not in the way Lily wanted it. Mary couldn’t stand watching Lily make a fool out herself for somebody else’s approval.

What had happened? 

Mary hadn’t seen Lily since breakfast; she had been off with Potter for most of the day. She didn’t envy Lily; they had spent the past six years together, and the two of them had only been separated for less than a week. But a guilty and hardened part of her heart was green with envy at him, James; he could still move, he could still _fly_, and Mary missed it more than she ever thought one could miss anything. The rush of wind in her face, the feeling of absolute freedom that she had only ever felt on a broom. Her top of the line Nimbus was still under her bed, handle still carefully polished. Even after what had happened, she still wished she’d be able to fly again someday. 

It was a foolish wish, but a wish nonetheless. Mary’s nervous system was shot with curse damage; she might not be able to walk in ten years, never mind fly on a broomstick. 

She considered rock in her hands and threw it, but the tightness of her back hindered her movement at the last moment, and it skittered farther left then she had intended. It spun about on the surface of the ice, once and then twice before coming to a stop. Mary focused on its movements in an attempt to slow her breathing as her back seized suddenly. It was close on unbearable, and as she grew older, it became worse. It felt like her skeleton was pulling itself apart, the muscles spasming uncontrollably in response. All those years ago, her spine had taken the brunt of the initial attack when Mulciber cursed her. That moment had spun through her head a million times, the sun was bright, cloudless, windless, it was April 17th, and she was sitting beside the lake with Marlene and Alice enjoying the rare bout of good weather. She had known Mulciber for ages, the same year, sorted one after another five years previously. She knew he had uncomfortably dark tendencies, but many of those in her year did as well. She hadn’t done anything wrong; there was no reason for her to be wary of him. 

How very wrong she was. 

He called out, first. Marlene turned to give him a piece of her mind, but Mary could stand up for herself and told her friend as such. She stood to face him, her wand abandoned on the grass by her feet and told him to find someone else to bother. He came closer, and his mate Avery came up from behind him, both of their wands raised. 

She didn’t know what curse the cast first, but it was debilitating, and when she tried to describe it later, all she could think of was the pain, flowing down her body in waves. She could hear the screams of Marlene and Alice, the movements of them stepping in front of her, wands raised. She could hear the outcry of students around her, but Mary was frozen in pain, utterly alone in her suffering. She felt herself falling, Marlene catching her, and then the second curse came, hitting the base of her spine. 

She woke up in St Mungo’s some time later, five worried faces looking down at her. Once she had sorted up from down and left from right, the Healer came by with a chart and a downcast expression. It was permanent, she had said. Whatever it was that hit her, it had degrading properties. It would never heal, never fully recover. Her body would never fully cooperate with her again. In those first weeks, even standing upright was excruciating, shooting pain ran down her legs and arms, numbing her feet and making walking near impossible.

Despite her protestations, her family was notified about her condition and made the journey down to London with haste she had forgotten they possessed. She wanted to hate them, to ignore them, to not see the disgust and frustration so evident in their eyes. But despite all this, they came for her every day, assisting in her recovery. But once the day was through, and she was back in the comfort of her bed, she could just make out the conversations between her mum and dad and the Healers. She watched in frustration at seeing her parents cry, damp handkerchiefs pressed over their eyes. There was nothing to be done, nothing at all. Invalid for life. 

The Healers tried this and that in the coming months, rehabilitation, potions, spells, all experimental, and with very mixed results. One of the potions caused hallucinations so vivid all the progress that had been made was gone in a moment. Another left her partially, but thankfully temporarily, paralyzed. But through trial and a great deal of error, a rehabilitation schedule was created and carried out with some manner of success. Her somewhat reluctant parents and her dorm mates— as well as a curious Anthony Balsan— helped her on her way to recovery, encouraging her to take her medication, assisting in walking exercises, and generally keeping her company. By the time August rolled around, she could walk and sit and move about well enough that returning to Hogwarts was back on the table. 

Tony was everything she looked for in a friend, considerate, generous with his time, thoughtful. He was tall, with blonde hair that fell just over his brow, and after spending so long together, they had developed the beginning of affection. He was there for a different reason; was being treated for complications related to diabetes. By using both Muggle and wizarding techniques, they had come to a solution a few weeks before her, thank Merlin. He was being treated on the first floor, and she was on the fourth, but they still managed to find time to spend together, usually under a sheet after dark discussing their mutual affections for Paul McCartney and Exploding Snap. 

It wasn’t until she returned to Hogwarts in September that she was told of Mulciber and Avery’s expulsions. Still, she was grateful, truly and honestly because her condition had brought her to Tony. 

She tossed another stone, this time remaining mindful of her rotation, and smiled as the stone sailed through the ice. A tentacle rose through the hole left behind, and Mary took a step back in surprise before it slithered back beneath the surface. 

“Mary!” 

She turned in surprise at the sound of Tony’s voice, a smile on her face before she saw his expression and froze. 

“Mary!” he panted, his eyes wide and wild. “It’s Amelia; we need to go,” 

... 

Tony helped her on the long walk back to the castle, offering to carry her (which she quickly declined) and explained. He had been walking down an abandoned corridor on the sixth floor, looking for Mary when he saw Amelia walking alone. It was late (later now, she thought as they walked, the sun had set some time ago) and Tony was worried about Amelia’s welfare. He turned the corner to ask, and the next thing he saw was someone in a black cloak whisking Amelia away and out of sight. 

“I couldn’t find Dumbledore, and I knew you were alone, so I came for you first,” he said, holding the door to the castle open for her. “Are you sure you don’t need help? It’s a long walk,” 

“No, my back is sore, but walking should help,” she said, their footsteps echoing on the stone. “The sixth floor, you said? East or west?” 

“East,” he said, taking her hand as they stepped into the Entrance Hall. “Towards that black suit of armour and the girl’s toilet,” 

“We need to find Dumbledore,” Mary said, pausing at the foot of the stairs to catch her breath. “Or McGonagall, or somebody. It doesn’t matter who.” 

“I’m so sorry, I forgot; you’re soaked to the skin,” Tony said, peeling a scarf off of her neck and raising his wand. He had a particular gift for Charms, and the warm air was a blessed relief. She was damp, but it couldn’t be helped. 

“It’s no matter, you’re much the same,” Mary said, unbuttoning his cardigan and tugging it off, down his arms. “At least I had a coat on,” 

“It was an emergency!”

“Then never mind me, off we go,” 

They walked quickly to the seventh floor. Tony lent a hand (and later an arm) to Mary as they continued to climb stair after stair, walked through corridor after corridor to the entrance to Dumbledore’s office. The going was slow, and by the time they reached the seventh-floor landing, she could go no further and slumped down the wall like a raindrop.

“Mary,” Tony said, kneeling beside her and kissing her on the forehead. “Wait here; I’ll get somebody. I’ll be right back.” 

Tony turned his head slowly around the corner of the corridor and turned back as quickly as he could, his eyes wide as he strained to listen. 

“...as if this business with the Aurors wasn’t bad enough, Dumbledore had to go on and summon Crouch, damn him.”

“A war is coming, Horace,” Professor Flitwick squeaked, his voice many octaves higher than his companion. “And Dumbledore is a great wizard; he’ll have Hogwarts’ best interest at heart.” 

“War? Good Lord, I hope not. He Who Must Not Be Named isn’t foolish enough to start his war under Dumbledore’s nose, surely not,” 

“There are rumours about Death Eater recruitment among certain families,” Flitwick said slowly. 

“Slytherin families, you mean.” 

“All evidence procured agrees, Horace,” Flitwick said, his words heavy. “Facts remain ignorant of personal preference.” 

Slughorn sighed, and Mary strained to listen, but the next exchange was in whispers. 

“What’d he say?” Anthony whispered, and she shook her head.

“Nothing,” Mary said. “Couldn’t hear it, whatever it was.” 

Anthony sighed. “Did Slug leave?” 

Mary inched her way to Anthony’s feet and peeked her head back around the corner and watched as Flitwick gently closed his classroom door behind him. “Looks to have done,” 

“Come along then,” Anthony said, dusting off his trousers and holding out a hand. “No time like the present.” 

...

“Professor?” 

There was a general shuffle from behind the closed door before Flitwick offered a muffled greeting, and the door inched open. 

“Oh! Mr. Balsan!” Flitwick exclaimed with familiar warmth. “And Miss Macdonald as well! What do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” 

“Professor, we didn’t know who to go to, we were looking for Dumbledore, but we need help, quickly.” 

“What is it? Is somebody hurt?” 

Anthony scrubbed a hand over his face in apparent distress before continuing. “I think so, but before jumping to conclusions, is there any reason that men in black cloaks should Stun and carry off a student?” 

“What?” 

“Amelia Bones, sir. 

“And Miss Bones was...” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“No time to lose, then,” Professor Flitwick said, taking hold of his wand. “Where did you see them last?” 

“The sixth floor, about forty-five minutes ago,” Tony explained, holding fast to Mary’s hand. 

“Professor Dumbledore is gone, I’m afraid,” Flitwick said, moving to walk down a flight of stairs. “Gone to attend an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot. Professor McGonagall might have an answer, she and Mr. Crouch have been in conference now for some time.” 

“What business do they have together?” Tony asked. 

“I daresay Professor McGonagall will explain. Not much further now,” 

The trip back down the stairs was easier than up, and McGonagall’s office was a shorter trip with Tony’s shortcut on the third floor. By the time they reached the door, Mary was quite out of breath, so Flitwick knocked in her stead. 

“Enter,” came McGonagall’s voice through the door. 

Mr. Crouch was standing beside her desk, his expression tense. His appearance was as neat as it had been that morning, tidy toothbrush mustache, hair parted severely. 

“We have a disappearance to report, Professor,” Tony said. 

...

“What _exactly_ was it you saw?” Mr. Crouch asked, not looking up from his notepad. 

“I saw an unidentified person in a black hooded cloak Stun and carry off Amelia Bones.” 

“I’m assuming Miss Bones is a student?” 

“Yes,” 

“Where did this occur?”

“In the east corridor on the sixth floor,” Anthony said, speaking rather quickly. 

“When was she last seen?” 

“We haven’t seen her since lunch, sir,” Mary said. “I’m Mary Macdonald; we haven’t been introduced. Amelia’s dorm mate.” 

“Miss McDougal, is it?” 

“MacDonald,” 

“Miss MacDonald, this inquiry is for those who witnessed the scene of the crime. Please stand to one side while it occurs, or I would have you removed.”

“I’m sure she has insight that would aid the investigation,” Tony said earnestly, looking back and offering a quick smile. 

“Hmm,” Mr. Crouch said unconvincingly, not looking up. “And what time approximately did this occur?” 

“Near on an hour ago, I’d say,” 

Mr. Crouch held up a pocket watch and consulted the time before placing it back in the pocket of his waistcoat. He noted it with a firm but steady hand. 

“That places the time of the initial confrontation at half-past ten,” Mr. Crouch said. “I will consult with the Head of the Aurors to see if anything mysterious has occurred in that time frame.”

He continued to write notes, and Anthony stayed, watching him as if he had something else to add. 

“Mr. Balsan, you will find I am not a patient man,” Crouch said, his eyes fixed on the parchment. “If you have something to say, I suggest you do so,” 

“Nobody would’ve been able to sneak past the Aurors, would they?” Anthony said hesitatingly. “The castle is large, and it _is_ getting dark earlier these days—,”

“Are you suggesting that the Auror department has been unsuccessful as of late, Mr. Balsan?” Mr. Crouch said, his eyes bulging. “Failing at their post?” 

“Of—of course not, sir,” 

“The Headmaster will not allow the Dementors inside the castle, or the matter would have already be settled.” 

“I should think not!” McGonagall said, looking belligerent. “The guards of Azkaban in a school, I’ve never heard of such a thing. I daresay if they had been, she might have already been Kissed!” 

There was a tense silence, and Tony reached back and took Mary’s hand. 

“I will send the teachers out searching for her. I suggest you return to your dormitories and stay there; I will send a message when we have found her.” 

“Of course, professor,” Mary said. “Come on, Tony,” 

But Tony remained rooted; his eyes fixed on McGonagall. “You’ll find her, right?” 

“We will do our utmost that I will promise Mr. Balsan. Professor Flitwick, will you please escort them to Gryffindor tower?” 

“Of course, Minerva,” Flitwick said, holding the door open. 

... 

Later, dry and warm and tucked into bed, it struck Mary as particularly odd that Amelia would be out late at all, curfew was being strictly enforced, and she had never been one for breaking the rules. What had she been doing? Mary sat up with a sigh and looked over at Amelia’s neatly made bed. She was the most levelheaded of all of them, calm in a crisis, had she been here, she would’ve known what to do. 

“Are you okay?” 

Mary turned over in surprise to see Marlene awake from the next bunk over. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” 

“We thought you were together, you and Amelia,” she explained, her face full of worry. “That’s why weren’t concerned because we knew that you could watch over one other.”

“No, I was beside the loch,” 

“What were you doing there?” 

“Just thinking,” Mary said quietly, tracing designs on her sheets. “Worrying about Lily,” 

“Lily can take care of herself, she’s got a good head on her shoulders,” Marlene whispered, and then looked over to Alice’s four-poster. “Do you think she’s awake?” 

“Alice? I—,”

“I’d say so,” Alice interrupted grumpily, looking very groggy. 

“Sorry if we woke you,” Mary said, turning on the lamp beside her bed. “I’m worried about Amelia,”

Alice sank back into her pillows with a sigh. 

“Me too,” Marlene said quietly. 

“Do you think she’s in trouble?” Alice said, her eyes still closed. 

“McGonagall didn’t seem to think so, the teachers and the Aurors are looking for her now,” 

“It’s so unlike her, she wouldn’t have been out after curfew for no reason,” Alice said, yawning widely. 

“Was she after something, you think?” 

“I don’t know,” Mary said, swinging her legs out of bed. “But I intend to find out,” 

“We can’t leave,” Alice said quickly. “There are patrols; there are Aurors out there. Do _you_ want to be caught by an Auror? Because I don’t,” 

“Don’t be such a baby,” Mary said, pulling on her boots. They were still wet from her trapeze through the woods, but warm enough after she cast a quick-drying charm. “Amelia would do the same for you,” 

Alice harrumphed before pulling herself out of bed as well, her long nightgown tangled in her sheets. 

“Am I the only sane one here?” Marlene said, having not moved an inch. “We can’t go after her! God knows where she is now! We wouldn’t find her anyway,” 

“I’d rather have looked and not found her then stayed put and had no answer,” Mary said, tucking her wand in the pocket of her robes. “We need to stop by and collect Lily first. We’ll need her help,” 

“So we can just get into even more trouble?” Marlene said. 

“Just because she’s Head Girl doesn’t mean she won’t punish us for being out of bed, Mary,” Alice added. 

“She’s not like that,” Mary said. “And anyway, are you lot coming or not?” 

... 

Five minutes later, they crawled one at a time out of the portrait hole, watching and listening carefully for any sign of trouble. The castle was silent, and so long as they steered clear of Peeves and watched around corners, it shouldn’t be hard to search. Mary had a vague understanding of where James and Lily’s dormitory was, and took the lead down a staircase to the sixth floor. 

“Do you know where you’re going?” Marlene hissed from behind her. 

“I think so,” Mary whispered back, the tip of her wand lit. 

“Turn left,” Alice said from the rear, “It’s at the end of the corridor. Across from the boys’ toilet.” 

Mary peaked around the corner at the foot of the staircase, and seeing nobody, took down the hall. She supposed they were asleep, James and Lily, it was long past midnight. Was there a password? How on earth were they going to get in?

They arrived quite suddenly at a nondescript door halfway down the corridor. It had no keyhole, no doorknocker. If she knocked (given that they were lucky enough not to bring a wave of Aurors and teachers their direction), would they even hear it? 

“Well, here goes nothing,” Mary said and knocked three times on the dark wood. The sound echoed, and the girls scattered back behind the tapestry in fright. What if the teachers found them? 

Less than a minute later, to their astonishment, the door opened, and James stood in the doorway, looking not at all surprised to see them. 

“Are they still looking for her?” James said, and Mary stared at him, confused. “McGonagall told us, you’d better come in,” 

James led them through the door to a cozy space, a smaller version of the Gryffindor Common Room. 

“I didn’t think you’d answer,” Marlene said, taking in the sight of a tidy sitting area, a fire crackling merrily in the grate. 

“I knew you were coming,” James said, gesturing vaguely off to his left. “But that doesn’t matter. Did you come to see Lily?” 

“Yes, we need her help to find Amelia,” 

“I’ll get her,” James said, walking towards the only closed door in the dormitory. “Won’t be a minute.” 

The girls waited with a sense of impending dread, taking in the sights of this previously unexplored portion of the castle. There were two desks, facing opposite walls, surrounded by bookshelves, lit by hovering candles. The coffee table was laden with charts and opened books, a vividly red Griffin feather quill sat upright in an ink bottle. James had been hard at work before their arrival. More candles hovered here and there by magic, and their flickering light cast ghoulish shadows across the walls. 

The door clicked open, and a sleepy and disoriented Lily came into sight, rubbing her eyes. Marlene surged forward, and the rest of the girls followed, pulling Lily into a tight hug. 

“Did you hear about Amelia?” 

“Have you been alright?” 

“Haven’t seen you all day, you prat,” Alice murmured in Lily’s shoulder. 

“James said you were coming,” Lily said, slipping her glasses up her nose with a quiet smile. “I’ve missed you,” 

"You’d’ve missed us less if you’d left this place once in a while,” Marlene said, and Alice smiled.

“But that doesn’t matter,” Mary said. “All is forgiven. We need to find Amelia; everything else can wait,” 

“We can’t find her either,” James said, looking over at Lily and sitting on the back of the sofa. “We’ve been looking too,” 

Mary lifted an eyebrow. “How? You’ve been in here all day,” 

“I have to show you something,” Lily said, standing up suddenly and reaching for a spare piece of parchment on the table. “James and I were told by McGonagall that Mary and Amelia were missing, but we were only worried about Amelia, we knew that Mary was by the loch.” 

“What?” 

“How?” 

“This,” James said, taking the parchment from Lily, lifting his wand to the surface, “_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”_

Something like an inkblot appeared on the parchment and spread, familiar corridors and classrooms appearing on the surface, creating a map of what Mary knew to be Hogwarts. Near the top of the parchment, a curly green script said _Messers Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present: the Marauders Map._

“Where did this come from?” Marlene said in awe, not quite seeing Lily’s pleased smile from beside her. 

“Is this what I think it is?” 

“I thought you couldn’t make a map of Hogwarts?” Alice said with confusion. “Because of the secret passages and such?” 

James shrugged, a barely contained grin behind his lips. 

“Hold on, isn’t this what you lot call each other?” Mary said, looking over at James suddenly, tracing the names with her finger. “Padfoot is Black, Wormtail is Pettigrew, isn’t it?” 

“Moony is Lupin,” Marlene said, looking up with excitement. “And that means—,” 

“Prongs is me,” James said, looking up with a strange expression on his face. 

“So where’d you get this from?”

“We made it,” James said, straightening out the flaps lovingly. “Enchanted it to show the whereabouts of every inhabitant of the castle. I’ve been searching for Amelia ever since McGonagall told us when was that Lils?” 

“Not sure,” she said, leaning over James’ shoulder. “Quarter to Eleven? Hours ago,” 

“And no luck, she’s not on the map. So unless she left the castle-,” 

“She’s missing,” Alice said, looking down in disbelief. “Truly missing,” 

“She’s not.... dead, right?” 

There was a tense silence, no one wanting to confront the possibility that Mary could be right. 

“I don’t think so,” James said at last. “There’s no reason to have, and there was a witness whether Amelia’s attacker knew it or not. There are Aurors everywhere; it was most likely a misunderstanding,” James stopped suddenly and turned his attention back towards the map. “You said Tony saw Amelia being stunned and dragged off, right?” 

“Right,” Mary said, looking apprehensive. 

“Which floor was it?” 

“The sixth, eastern corridor.” 

James sat back in his seat, the beginnings of a plan growing in his mind. “That’s right beside the staircase leading up to the seventh floor,” James said, tracing his finger down the corridor. “And on the seventh floor is the only room in the entire castle we couldn’t put it on the map. It’s Unplottable, never quite in the same place or bearing the same dimensions; the Room of Requirement,” 

...

James was fully dressed but waited for Lily to slip on a dressing gown before they left the dormitory. The girls had a million questions (“you found _seven_ secret passageways out of the castle? How the hell did you do that?” “You made this when you were _thirteen?!”_ How did you keep it a secret for so long?”)

“Simple,” James said, his eye straying back towards Lily’s room now and again. “You don’t tell anybody,” 

“He only told me about an hour ago,” Lily said from down the hall, pulling on her quilted dressing gown. “When he left the damn thing on the coffee table,” 

James folded the map and tucked it into the pocket of his robes, offering a hand out for Lily to hold. “Come on,”

“Where are we going?” 

“I think I know where Amelia is,” he said as she considered. “Do you trust me?” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Marlene said under her breath.

“I trust you to get us in trouble,” Lily said. “You’ve yet to let me down in that regard,” 

He wiggled his hand, and Lily took it. The girls followed with apprehension and excitement.

“It’s on the seventh floor, the entrance,” James said, his eyes bright. Lily ran a bit to catch up with his long strides. “I can’t believe I never showed it to you before!” 

“Showed me what?” Lily asked. “The Room of Requirement? I’ve never heard of it.” 

He held a finger to his lips. “Marauders honour, Evans. No one but the four of us knows, well, eight of us soon enough.” 

“Glad to hear I’ve made the cut,” Lily said dryly. 

“You would’ve been a Marauder in second year if I had anything to say about it,” said James, holding open the door. “After you,” 

... 

James waved his wand, and Mary gasped in alarm as three huge stags burst out of the tip of his wand, silvery and translucent. Together, they turned their heads towards James as if expecting direction. 

“Find Sirius, Peter, and Remus, tell them to meet us at the Room of Requirement, tell them that it’s an emergency. Oh! And tell Sirius to bring the cloak.” 

The stags nodded and took off in a run down the corridor. 

“They’ll meet us upstairs,” James said, passing the map to Lily. “Keep an eye on this, will you? 

The silvery stags had long since disappeared around the corner, and James led them in the opposite direction. Lily walked close beside him, looking down now and then to make sure they weren’t about to run into a teacher. “Peeves is on the first floor, McGonagall and Sinistra are on the fifth, and Flitwick is in the Ravenclaw Common Room. There’s no one on this floor, not even a ghost.” 

“That’s lucky,” Mary said, fighting to stay calm. 

“There’s a passage behind this tapestry on our left,” Lily said, tracing the route with her finger. “It’ll be a faster route,” 

“After you,” James said, stopping at a seemingly innocuous tapestry of a unicorn and a stag and stepping aside as the girls followed after Lily. He looked one last time at the sixth floor before turning towards the others. 

Mary had lit her wand and looked over Lily’s shoulder as they considered where to go next. “How will we know where it is? It’s not on the map,” 

“It should be right around— here,” James said, circling a blank piece of map with his finger. “It moves all over the place, but that’s where the entrance is. Across the hall from a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.” 

“Well, lead on,” Mary said, much to his surprise. He didn’t dislike Mary; in fact, he rather admired her. But James couldn’t deny a certain amount of animosity he couldn’t place that usually showed itself whenever they interacted. What he had done, (or indeed, hadn’t done) escaped him, but her face was uncharacteristically bright and hopeful, and he grinned at her without reservation.

“Lily first,” James said, ducking under the low ceiling. “Watch your step, the sixth stair from the top is a trick step.” 

Lily led them up the stairs, and through the backside of a hinged painting, keeping a careful eye on the map. 

James walked past Lily and walked into the corridor. Thick panes of moonlight shone through the windows and cast shadows against the walls, and if she wasn’t mistaken, Lily thought she saw three pairs of trainers near the wall, unattached to their corresponding bodies. James took a step towards them, wand raised. 

“What’s he doing?” Alice whispered, and Lily smiled but didn’t answer.

James prodded the air in front of him, unsurprised to see the bodies of his friends tumble seemingly out of thin air. Sirius and Lupin, both tall enough that their trousers showed beneath the cloak, looked rather sheepish, but Peter was shaking in fear. Marlene yelped and tucked herself further into Lily’s side. 

“Thank God for that,” Sirius said, moving to stand beside James, pushing the cloak into his hands. “Being invisible is rubbish,” 

“How long were you waiting for?” 

“A minute or so,” Remus said. “We were both awake, but Peter here was enjoying his beauty sleep.” 

“It is past midnight, Lupin,” Marlene said. 

“Even so, Amelia is missing,” Sirius said, patting James on the shoulder. “Your Patronus was brilliant, smart thinking. I’m not sure why we’ve not used it before now, to be honest,” 

The group exchanged greetings, and Sirius expressed his genuine shock at the Map in Lily’s hands.

“Marauders honour, Prongs! You showed it to _Evans_?”

“It was an accident,” James said. “It was late and—,” 

“Someone’s coming,” Lily said suddenly, looking up and meeting James’ eye. “Six blokes I don’t know, and Bartemius Crouch.” 

Sirius, James, Peter, and Lupin walked towards the wall and simultaneously began pacing back and forth before the empty bit of wall.

“I need a place to hide, I need a place to hide,” James murmured desperately, walking back and forth between the man-sized vase and the adjacent window. “I need to find Amelia, lead us to Amelia,” 

“Hurry!” Lily whispered, tugging Marlene and Alice further behind her in the darkest part of the corridor. 

A set of wrought iron doors slowly appeared on the wall, and not a moment too soon, the boys tumbled into an open space, followed closely by Lily, Marlene and Alice, and as quietly as she could, Mary shut the doors behind them. 


	9. You're Just Not That Hard to Find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marauders and Lily's dormitory mates set off to find Amelia Bones, and find more than they bargained for in the chase.

“Do you think they saw us?” Mary breathed, looking over and then under James’ arm through the crack in the door. 

There were footsteps from behind the door and muffled conversation. Mary noticed a large bronze key in the keyhole and promptly locked it. 

“I don’t think so,” Lily said from somewhere behind her. 

“The Room is soundproof, so long as we don’t leave, we should be safe,” Lupin said, watching with a half-smile as Peter exhaled dramatically and slid down the door with a sigh. 

“The door seals itself,” Sirius explained from beside Lily. “It’s like a catalogue, infinite iterations of the same room are stacked on top of the other so that we can hide in here. And even if they did get in, they wouldn’t be able to get in here unless they asked for the same thing that we did—,” 

“Which in and of itself is nearly impossible,” James finished, running a hand through his hair in relief. “We should be fine until we figure out what to do,” 

“Do you think Amelia’s in here?” Lupin asked James, who shrugged. 

“There’s no way to know if we don’t check,” James said, raising his wand. “I asked the room to show me where she was, hopefully, it did its job,” 

Lily raised her wand, as did Marlene and Mary, and together they took several brave steps into the endless darkness. 

“Up you get, Wormtail,” Sirius said, pulling his friend up by the arm. Even from where Mary was standing some distance ahead, she could hear him grumbling as Peter dusted off his trousers. 

“It’s black as hades in here,” Marlene complained, the tip of her wand giving off a feeble sort of light. The darkness was so complete room that even with wand-light, it was impossible to see more than ahead foot in the dark. There was a chance, Marlene thought somewhat desperately, that even if they each walked the perimeter of the room, they still might not find her.

“Ouch!” Alice exclaimed, and a tremendous clatter of falling objects filled the silence like a gunshot. “Something bit me!” 

Something small skittered past their feet into the darkness behind. Marlene screamed as it ducked between her feet. From behind them, there was the sound of a spell, and the skittering drew to silence. 

“Are you okay?” said James. “I Stunned it... this, whatever it is,” 

Marlene drew deep gasping breaths, and Mary rubbed her back in sympathy.

“I hate things like that,” Marlene said with conviction, still shaking slightly. 

“Bound to be more,” Sirius said blandly, walking up beside the trio. “Weird, this place is. Never the same twice.” 

Peter had found some of his courage but was still as pale as Marlene clutching Lupin’s jumper sleeve. James kicked the skittering thing aside, and continued walking, his wand light somewhat brighter than the rest. Quietly, almost as if it was natural, he took Lily’s hand in his own and from the glow of their wands, Mary could see a look of fierce determination on her friend’s face that she had never seen before. 

Sirius, finally free of Wormtail, flicked his wand and watched as a burst of bright light burst from the tip and hovered high above them, illuminating the room in thin, white light, and they stood around for a moment, blinking.

It was sparse, this space they found, here and there cabinets and wardrobes full of broken wands, quills, and other less desirable things spilled open. Tall windows covered with thick drapes lined one wall, but in the back corner, dimly lit, a single chair was occupied. 

“Could it be?” Mary whispered, her heart racing. Amelia was her friend, her dorm mate, the one with straight-faced sarcasm and a firm belief in justice. Amelia, her friend who was missing. She could be there, right there, and nobody cared? Wasn’t anyone going to rescue her? 

“Best be careful,” Lupin said, stirring Mary from her rapid thoughts. He and the others were walking somewhat quicker, but not with a gait that could be described as hurried. Didn’t they care at all? She was in danger, and she was _right there_. This is what they had been waiting for, why didn’t anyone run to her? 

Mary took several quick steps and then broke into a run, not caring if anyone was following, not listening to James’ shouted warnings, because all she could think was _Amelia, Amelia, Amelia. _

She ran as far as she could, focusing on the here and now, one foot in front of the other, arms pumping by her sides. She could hear the cries of her friends behind her, the thick steps of their running, but didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop, not for them, not for anything or anybody but Amelia, the friend who could be there, right there in front of them. Was she hurt? In trouble? How had sensible and careful Amelia Bones find herself here? 

But all the while, dimly in her mind, and then forefront, she could feel her arms seize and her legs cramp, the familiar ache running down her spine like a knife. Her ankle seized, and she fell to one knee, and then collapsed like a rag-doll, thick hiccoughing sobs deep in her throat. Sirius, James, and Marlene ran past her, and when great running steps slowed behind her and offered rest, Mary sank into Alice’s arms with tears in her eyes. 

Even from twenty feet away, Mary could see through thick tears that the others had reached the chair. It was turned towards the wall, and its occupant was slumped forward, thick ropes binding their shoulders and ankles. James held his arm out behind him and walked forward alone. He held his wand held out in front of him with a firm expression on his face. Lily moved to follow him but stopped after a step or two, her wand held aloft. 

“Good _God_,” Lily whispered, standing close to Sirius as James inched closer, walking side by side. “Moony?” 

“Here,” Remus said, taking hold of Lily’s other hand as if to steady himself. “Turned to help Mary, but Alice has her,” 

Their eyes turned towards James and Sirius, who had finally approached the chair. Remus, almost as if in a trance, nodded at Peter, and the pair crept towards James and Sirius. It looked as if James had moved to untie them, but Sirius shook his head, casting what she guessed to be the Enneverate charm, as they sat up and gasped. James pulled off a blindfold and tossed it to the floor in disgust. His eyes roamed over their figure, and his face turned to a broad smile in recognition. 

“it’s her! It’s Amelia!” James said exuberantly, untying her at once, and holding out his arms as she collapsed into them. 

Lily moved to rush at her friend, but Sirius stopped her, his eyes following Lupin’s into a shadowy corner. “Mars, watch over them,” Sirius said quietly, eyes not leaving Remus’ back. “Don’t let them follow,” 

“I won’t,” Marlene said, tightening her grip on Lily’s hand. 

“Amelia, what happened?” She could hear James whispering, his wand hovering over her form. “Stay still, no, don’t worry, you’ve done nothing wrong. Don’t move, stay where you are, we’ll get you out of here. Can you stand up?” 

From twenty feet away, she could see Amelia shake her head with a grimace. “Can I pick you up? Would that be okay?” 

Amelia must’ve nodded into his shoulder, because the next thing she knew, James was walking towards Marlene and Lily, a lolling Amelia in his arms. 

Amelia's hair was plastered across her forehead, and puddles had formed beneath her chair as if she had been caught in the rain. A large knot was swelling above her left ear, and blood darkened her blonde hair. She was disorientated, confused, and had no answers to their queries as to what had happened or how she ended up there. 

“We need to get her out of here,” James whispered. “But I don’t think either of you would be able to lift her alone, and there’s a lump on her head that someone should look at.”

Lily ran a hand through Amelia’s short hair, and Amelia stirred in James’ arms. “You’re safe, we’ve got you. Stay still, okay? We’re going to get you out of here,” 

“—Mary?” she whispered after a moment, her eyes unfocused. 

Mary stirred in Alice’s arms, her own body weak. “Yes?” 

“I’m sorry,” 

“What for, darling?” 

“Tried to...to....”

James adjusted Amelia in his arms, letting her head loll against his shoulder. He hadn’t noticed or perhaps didn’t look, as Lupin and Sirius crept back into the corner behind Amelia’s chair with their wands outstretched. Or maybe he did, Mary thought, as he made pointed eye contact with her, leading the way as the seven of them walked slowly back towards the door. 

“James,” Lily breathed, and James came to an abrupt stop. “The corner, Pads and Moony, I can’t see them,” 

He didn’t turn, but he stopped and listened intently before speaking. “Mars,” he said quietly, the light casting long shadows over his usually cheerful face. He wasn’t smiling now; she had never seen him look so determined. “You’re the best at hexes, follow them, haul them back with you if you have to. You too, Pete. Watch over them. I’m not leaving this room with even one of us still in it. Mary put your arms around Lily and Alice and follow me; we need to find McGonagall,” 

Lily pulled the map out of her dressing gown pocket and searched for a moment before confirming that the Aurors and Mr. Crouch had abandoned the seventh floor. She pulled Mary’s arm further over her shoulder, and the three of them walked in an odd three-legged race as they hobbled their way to the door. 

A shouted hex sounded from behind them, and James broke into a run, Amelia’s head bobbing against his shoulder. Lily took more of Mary’s weight on her shoulder and gripped tightly to her arm as they began to run. Each step she took felt more strenuous than the last, but they reached the doorway with not an ounce of strength to spare. Mary waved her wand, and the door creaked open, and James ushered them through the door, his face damp with sweat. 

He lowered Amelia to the floor, resting her head on Mary’s lap before turning back towards the open doorway. 

“I need to help them,” he said to Lily, and she nodded tightly. 

“I’ll come with you,” 

James pursed his lips and drew his wand, looking down at Mary, Alice, and Amelia, the latter asleep on Alice’s shoulder. “Will you be okay?” 

“Give me your Invisibility Cloak, throw it over us, and we can wait until you come back,” Alice said in a whisper, running a hand up and down Mary’s spine almost subconsciously. “Don’t worry, go!” 

She waited in anticipation as James tossed a silvery cloak over the three of them, and pulled in her knees as it settled. James looked down in satisfaction before turning back towards the Room of Requirement. 

Lily took hold of James’ hand, and together they ran through the open doorway. 

...

Mary wasn’t sure what to make of the yelling from inside the room, nor was she confident that if something were to come hurtling through the doorway, she would be able to stop it. Her legs were cramping painfully, and her back had seized from a combination of the excess movement she had done in the past few hours and from the cold floor she found herself on. Lily had left them with James' map, and she found herself compulsively checking it for movement. It was nearing on two in the morning, most of the castle’s occupants were fast asleep, with a few exceptions. McGonagall was pacing her study, as was Flitwick, who had joined her not long after. That Crouch man and a handful of people (undoubtedly Aurors) were patrolling the fifth floor. Dumbledore was still notably absent, and Alice kept the flap of the Headmaster’s office turned towards her as if she could summon him back. Amelia was asleep, and while not an expert, she was familiar with a handful of healing charms and had pieced her friend back together again as best as she could under the circumstances. Now that the door had shut behind Lily and James, the castle had fallen silent. She had no way of knowing if her friends were safe or if they needed help, and if they did, they would be largely incapable of providing it. Mary caught Alice’s eye and held it for some time, both very aware and uncomfortable with the situation they found themselves in. 

Fifteen minutes passed in silence, then the half-hour. Moonlight slipped through the bars of the windows opposite and shone brightly on the flagstones. Mary knew without a shadow of a doubt that they were invisible but felt exposed and vulnerable with the moonlight in her eyes. Mary and Alice had a brief but fierce conversation about leaving and returning to the Gryffindor Common Room. Neither were confident that they could sustain a hover charm under the circumstances (Alice’s hands had yet to stop shaking) to reach Gryffindor tower, much less the Hospital Wing. 

“We can’t stay here forever. We need to get help, and seeing as you can’t walk,” Alice said under her breath, her eyes straying towards the blank wall she knew her friends to be behind. “I’ll take the map and find McGonagall, she’ll be able to help us.” 

“And send us to detention until Christmas,” Mary said exasperatedly. “It’s after midnight! We’re supposed to be in bed! I promised her I would be!” 

“Amelia needs help; _you_ need help. Frankly speaking, all of us should spend some time in the Hospital Wing. But the others aren’t back yet, and we can’t wait under this cloak forever, so I’m going for help, and I need you to watch over Amelia while I’m gone.” 

Mary sighed, her eyes straying to the corridor she knew led to Ravenclaw dormitories, where she Tony was sleeping, alive and well. He would want to help; she was sure of that. But she had no way of telling him, Ravenclaw tower was too far away to be a reasonable request. 

“I will,” Mary said firmly, folding up the map and handing it to Alice. “Be safe.” 

“You too,” 

The last that Mary saw of Alice was the light from her wand tip turning down the corridor. 

... 

The trip down to McGonagall’s office was a quick one. The map was ingenious, showing secret passageways to both shorten the distance and provide necessary cover should someone be in the corridors. Marlene had told her of the increased Prefect patrols, and twice Alice ducked behind a tapestry or into a hidden staircase as Aurors in long black cloaks walked past. She rolled her wand about in her hand, quietly running a list of hexes and curses through her mind as if to reassure herself. But the castle was quiet, eerily so. The portraits were mostly asleep, or disgruntled and watchful as she passed them by. Her steps echoed in the empty halls. It was late, she thought, looking down at her watch, and only getting later. They were lucky that McGonagall was still awake, did she know that they were out of bed? How in Merlin’s name was she going to explain this without getting herself or her friends in trouble? 

Alice turned the corner out of another hidden staircase and found herself halfway down the Transfiguration corridor, and after carefully checking the map for unwelcome company, ran to McGonagall’s classroom door. The room was vacant, the desks and benches spooky in the moonlight. She ran down the divide between desks and knocked three times on her office door. There was a moment of muted conversation before Professor Flitwick opened the door. Surprise and concern flooded his expression, and he turned back to face McGonagall. In seven years she had been at Hogwarts, she had never before seen an expression like the one she saw now. McGonagall’s lips were so thin they seemed to disappear, and her face was white and peaked. Several long rolls of parchment were open on her desk.

“Miss Winters, what—,” 

“They found her, professor,” Alice gasped, holding the doorknob tightly for loss of breath. “Amelia, they found her. She’s hurt, I need your help to get her and Mary to the Hospital Wing,” 

Flitwick once again turned to meet McGonagall’s eye, but McGonagall had already moved, winding the tie of her tartan dressing gown firmly around herself in her haste to get out the door. 

...

By the time they returned to the seventh floor, Sirius, Lupin, Peter, James, Marlene, and Lily had popped out of the Room of Requirement and had huddled about Mary and Amelia. They must’ve done so recently because if she wasn’t mistaken, she noticed James hastily tuck a silvery cloak into his dressing gown pocket. 

“Mr. Potter!” McGonagall exclaimed, a hand on her heart. “Miss McKinnon! Ex-explain yourselves!” 

“Well, professor—,” 

“It’s hard to explain, Amelia—,” 

“We found her, professor,” Sirius said, interrupting both James and Marlene’s attempts at explanation. 

“Mr. Black, what in Merlin’s name—,” 

“Remus was on rounds, as instructed by James and Lily, and noticed a struggle on the seventh floor. When he came to investigate, a cloaked intruder had fired a jinx at Amelia, and she collapsed. When tending to her, the intruder escaped.” 

“Do you have any identification for this intruder?”

“None,” Sirius said, looking puzzled. “He was cloaked, the spell was nonverbal. His wand hand was ungloved, and his skin was puckered and angry like an improperly healing curse mark. He looked, well _they,_ I couldn’t get close enough to tell, but they looked like an Auror—or a Death Eater.” 

Mary didn’t know what it was they had faced in the Room of Requirement to rescue Amelia. Was it a single figure or two? She couldn’t place a face, they remained cloaked, and she was so focused on saving her friend she couldn’t be sure of their stature or voice.

Moreover, why was Black covering for them? There would be no chance of escaping detention no matter the tale he spun. And were they not all aware that it had been Tony who had seen Amelia’s attack? Sirius, in particular, who insisted on this venture in the first place? 

“Then why are the rest of you here then?” McGonagall said as Flitwick rushed to Mary and Amelia’s sides with his wand at the ready. “To my knowledge, only three of you have any reason to be out of bed!” 

“Minerva,” Flitwick said, waving his wand about Amelia’s form, carefully examining the lump on her forehead. “A condemnation will have to wait. Miss Bones has been hit with a powerful Stunning spell and requires the Hospital Wing.” 

“Yes, of course,” McGonagall said, still looking distinctly ruffled. “A search will be conducted immediately,” she said, casting a Levitation charm on Amelia and another on Mary, who rose as if supported by a cloud. “Back to bed, the lot of you. Mr. Potter and Miss Evans, you will follow me.” 

James and Sirius exchanged a flurry of words under their breaths before Sirius joined the others back towards Gryffindor tower, looking back towards Mary and Amelia with a strange expression on his face. Almost one of bitterness, of frustration. But at what? Hadn’t he, with James and the others, rescued Amelia in the first place?

“I’ll send ahead for Poppy,” Flitwick squeaked, waving his wand in the same way James before a single ethereal figure took off ahead of the group. “If you’ll follow me, speed is of the essence.” 

The trip down to the Hospital Wing was a familiar one for Mary, but her anxiety for Amelia grew with each passing moment. Even a powerful Stunning charm wouldn’t have lasted this long. Whoever cast it knew what they were doing, perhaps not meaning Amelia to bear the attack, but whoever encountered them first. Or was she targeted? The war had been blooming on the horizon for years had seemed real for the first time. Amelia was a Pureblood, but her best friends were almost exclusively half-blood or less, and a blood traitor was nearly as bad as Muggleborn so far as the Death Eaters were concerned. 

Had Death Eaters snuck into the castle while Dumbledore was away? And if they had, were they still here? 

“Professor,” Mary said quietly, her spine contracting painfully as she rotated to face McGonagall. “Death Eaters, they couldn’t be—,” 

“No,” McGonagall responded, moving quickly down yet another staircase. “But there are strangers in Hogwarts tonight, Aurors and otherwise. Once you and Miss Bones are settled with the Matron, the teachers and the Aurors will conduct a thorough search of the castle and its inhabitants.” 

James had a hard expression on his face, and when she looked closely, he had cuts on his jaw and arms, which were bleeding freely. Lily was missing a shoe, and her lip was bruised and split. Whatever it was they had met in the Room of Requirement had put up a fight. 

James and Lily reached the bottom of the marble staircase first, holding open the door or the Hospital Wing for the others to enter. McGonagall lowered Amelia and then Mary onto separate beds, and turned as the Matron entered the room in a dressing gown, a harried expression on her face. 

“Whatever happened to her, Minerva?” she asked, waving her wand over Amelia’s sleeping form. “Was she cursed?” 

“I think so,” Lily interrupted, looking past Mary’s bed to meet the Matron’s eye. “It was a non-verbal hex or curse. I’m not sure. She has yet to remain consciousness; we found her ten minutes ago.” 

“Do we know what has become of her attacker?” 

McGonagall shook her head. “None, Poppy. I will lead the investigation myself now that they are in your charge.” 

McGonagall turned to face Lily and James, who ceased speaking at once. “You are to return to bed, it is late, and we will require your help when the morning comes.” 

“We can help, professor,” Lily urged.

“No,” McGonagall said, and James ran a hand over his face in frustration. “You are underaged, both of you, and under-qualified. Head Boy and Girl or not, this is a matter for the teachers. Return to your dormitories, or I will have you escorted.” 

Lily sighed, and McGonagall and Flitwick left without another word. 

...

“What are we going to do?” James asked after the Matron had left the room. “Amelia’s attacker is still out there, we fought him off, and we’re sent to bed? This is bullshit!” 

Alice turned about and sat with a huff on the edge of Amelia’s bed, her eyes red and bothered. 

“Moreover, why did Sirius lie?” Mary said quietly, tucked up in the sheets. “He had no reason to, and now the story is more convoluted than ever.” 

“The Room is a secret,” James said. “It’s Unplottable, the only part of Hogwarts we couldn’t put on the map. I reckon he was doing his best to save our necks,” 

“Be that as it may,” Alice said. “We need to come up with a plan,” 

“The teachers are patrolling for them, but we trapped him in the Room, and with any luck, he’ll stay there,” Lily said. “Crafty bastard,” 

“But I don’t think he was openly malicious,” James continued, “it didn’t seem that way to me at least. He seemed as afraid of Amelia as he did of us. He fought like a demon, six to one, and only just managed to Stun him,”

“There’s nothing you or any of us can do now,” Mary said. “Amelia is safe, and Madame Pomfrey will be back any moment. Go to bed, we’ll make a plan in the morning,” 

Lily sighed and leaned down to kiss Amelia’s forehead and then gripped Mary’s hand tightly. “We’ll be back first thing, all right? Try and get some sleep, we need all of us to be strong for Amelia,” 

“Get off, the lot of you,” Mary said with a tight smile. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

...

James, Alice, and Lily took several shortcuts through the castle towards their respective dormitories, wands held aloft. Alice had handed back the Map, and James checked it frequently for surprises on the seventh floor before waving goodbye to her on the way to their dormitory. 

Lily said the password and then held the door as they both tumbled into their Common Room. 

James stifled a yawn, and when his eyes opened, his eyes were confused to see sleeping bags and spare mattresses containing three very disgruntled and tired looking Marauders, the low light casting spooky shadows over their faces. Marlene was there as well; her bed pulled closer to Lupin's than the others. 

Sirius sat up with a stretch overhead, his grey silk pyjamas clashing horribly with the sheets James’ mother had bought in a pair two years ago. The enchanted snitches and quaffles zoomed about the fabric as they always had. But despite Sirius’ show of exhaustion, his eyes were wide and alert, more so than that of the others. 

“So you’re back then,” Lupin said, moving to his cardigan pocket for his glasses. “About time,” 

“We were worried for you,” Peter said from his pillow, his eyes heavy with sleep. “When you didn't—when you didn’t come back,” 

“And what are you lot doing here then?” Lily asked hands on her hips. 

“Sleeping,” Marlene said. “Until you two woke us up.” 

“It’s our dormitory!” James said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve got your own,” 

“It’s rubbish without you, mate,” Remus said with a smile, happily be-specked. “Don’t know how to sleep without you up all hours of the night,” 

“So, it was our unanimous decision that until that asshole is caught—,” 

“Which hopefully won’t be before we let him out,” Marlene said under her breath, and Sirius smiled. 

“That your dormitory becomes our home base.” 

“Precisely.” 

James let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding and tried to catch Lily’s eye and failed; her focus once again on their friends and not him. He felt about his chest for the pieces of his heart that shattered and broke the longer her eyes settled on those not his own. 


	10. Stand and Deliver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James' feelings of inadequacy for Lily continue as the Marauders and Lily's dormitory mates work to track down the identity of Amelia's assailant.

**Shut your mouth, baby, stand and deliver**   
**Holy hands, will they make me a sinner?**   
**Like a river, like a river,**   
**Shut your mouth and run me like a river**   
**-River, Bishop Briggs**

**...**

James pulled his mattress into the Common Room, the feeling of dread heavy on his chest. Even from his dormitory, he could hear his dorm mates chatting and laughing in the Common Room. What right had they to set up camp in his and Lily’s space? Did they not think to ask first? Did they not think that perhaps they’d rather go to sleep and be done with it? Speak in the morning? 

The cuts on his face stun with the breeze of his mattress as it thudded to the ground, and he took a moment to look at his reflection in the mirror above his desk. His cheeks were cut in several places from ricocheting curses and jinxes, and the blood had dampened and reddened his collar and front of his dressing gown. He reached up, and almost anxiously touched them, one after another, fully embracing the notion that he and his friends had been in real danger tonight, perhaps unnecessary and un-purposeful danger, and for what? 

_He had rescued Amelia Bones. _

The teachers were all out looking for her, as were the Aurors. They had no right, as McGonagall had said, to play to hero with her life in the balance. 

_Mary and Lily had gotten hurt because of him._

Amelia’s kidnapper had split Lily’s lip (most likely from their attacker’s strange purple jinx), and the cut on her leg was deep, and it could’ve been much worse if Marlene’s curse hadn’t been so accurate. He owed his life to his friends, time and time again, but what right had they to trust him, believe him? After all that had happened? 

He had been so ready, anxious even, to prove himself after the fiasco with Lily. He wanted to be the hero in her eyes, the one who could save her mate and live to tell the tale. To be brave like his dad, like his mum, as courageous as everyone expected him to be. James Potter with a swagger and wink and an answer to every question. Who was he if he wasn’t who everyone thought he was? 

And who was their attacker? He was stout, thickly built with broad shoulders and dark eyes. His wand was short and curved slightly, with several nicks and splinters, as if their assailant had been involved in more severe scuffles than this. But he was hooded, and none of them had got a good luck at him, whoever he was—thinking of course that he _was_ a he. He prayed to God that the Stunning spell in addition to the Full Body-Bind Sirius had applied would hold until morning. 

James sighed and rubbed his jaw, hissing in pain when it reached a cut. He raised his wand and Levitated his mattress, but his hand was shaking, and the charm was holding an uneven levitation. All the energy from the Room of Requirement seemed to leave him at once, and he was left shaky and disorientated, moreover frustrated for feeling this way. Hadn’t he carried Amelia at a run and then fought as he’d never fought before? Hadn’t he defended his friends and thrown curses he’d never used, without thinking at someone who wouldn’t show their face?

James groaned and stopped, resting his face in his hands, his mattress falling with a soft _thud_. The damn thing wouldn’t fit through the doorframe. 

He took hold of his pillows and sheets and walked in a huff to the Common Room, depositing them on Sirius’ bunk to his best mate’s stifled bemusement. James walked back to his dormitory and Shrunk and Levitated his mattress, and set it down with perhaps more force than necessary when he saw Lily chatting with Remus, sitting on Lupin’s bed with a broad smile on her face. 

“You’ve got a little something on your collar, Prongs,” Sirius said, straight-faced. “It’s quite the look, isn’t it, Evans?” 

Lily looked down, fiddling with her hands on her lap. 

“I forgot,” James said cooly, turning on his heel back to his dormitory. “It’s two in the morning, but I need clothes that aren’t bloodstained to go to bed.” 

“Yeah, you do,” Peter said, his eyes going back and forth between Sirius and James. “Doesn’t he?” 

“Course he does,” Marlene said. “We all changed, why shouldn’t he? He’s filthy.” 

“I should think that James should be the judge of his actions,” Lily said, and James stopped, one hand on his doorknob, his heart in his throat. 

“Don’t listen to her, Prongs,” Sirius said, lying back down and closing his eyes. “Just change, you prat. You know which pyjamas I like,” 

Lupin, Marlene and Peter burst into laughter, clutching each other and their chests as they choked, tears running down their cheeks. 

“He’s— he’s not even that funny,” Marlene gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. “God I’m _exhausted_,” 

“Then go to bed,” Lily said shortly, standing up. “I’m going to brush my teeth, and you lot best be snoring when I get back,” 

“Come on, Lils, we didn’t mean it,” Marlene said, and Lily rolled her eyes, piecing her way around the mattresses towards the bathroom. James’ eyesight was blurry, but when she came within three feet, James noticed for the first time the sheer volume of blood running down her leg, pooling in her sock. 

“Lil, you should’ve said something,” he said in shock, bending down to examine her wound. Lily looked down, seemingly unaware of her predicament, and reached down towards her cut, hissing in pain when she touched it.

“No, don’t,” James said, taking off his cardigan. “My mum’s better at healing charms than I am, but I’ll take a stab at it,” 

James pulled his wand out of his pocket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He murmured incantations under his breath, and the wound puckered and then closed before her eyes. He dropped his wand and ripped the hem of his shirt, tearing it into a long strip of cloth, and binding her leg with it, knotting it gently and tying it in a bow. She protested, but she was shaking too, and the cut was deep enough to scare him.

James knew his mates were watching, but this was more important.

“It might be a curse,” James said, “and if it is, there isn’t much to be done other than keep infection out. We’ll go and see Madame Pomfrey in the morning and have her look at it. If it starts bleeding again, let me know, and I’ll try something else.” 

“I took care of the cut on my lip, and the long scratch up my neck, but nothing I could do would fix that one.” 

“I don’t know if I fixed it either,” James said anxiously. “But I tried my best.” 

“Okay,” Lily said, a small smile on her lips. “Thanks for taking care of me,” 

“It’s my pleasure,” James said. 

“And it will be if it isn’t already,” Sirius whispered, and Lupin elbowed him sharply. 

“I’ d-I’d better change,” 

“You’d better,” she said, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek, continuing in a whisper. “Because I won’t kiss you again until you do,” 

… 

Sometime later, James and Lily pulled their mattresses to the only available space in the room and settled down for the night. James tried not to stare as she stretched overhead, the hem of her nightie raising, exposing glorious inches of soft looking skin. He settled hastily into his bed, pulling the sheets firmly up to his chin and lying flat on his back, hoping, praying that she had more nerve than he did and would say something first. Or, perhaps, fall asleep and talk in the morning when both of them could be more rational. 

Lily settled herself in bed, leaving her sheets loose about her. Peter was snoring, loudly, and the comfortable intimacy they usually shared in this space vanished like smoke. In his peripheral vision, James could see the shadows of the dying fire and low burning candles jumping across her features, exaggerating the draw of her cheekbones, the turn of her nose. The bedsprings creaked, and he listened with bated breath as Lily flipped onto her side, facing him. 

“What a night, eh?” 

“Yeah,” James said, trying to remain nonchalant. Her hand was outside of her sheets, lying innocuously beside her. Their beds were close, space before the hearth was small and cramped, just large enough for two beds and nothing else. He looked over at her, reckoning if he extended his arm, his fingertips might just be able to reach her hand. Hold it, the small, thin fingers, warm palm, the gentle scratch of her fingernails against the back of her hand. She had changed her fingernail polish, it was now a vivid orange, which clashed beautifully, wonderfully with her dark red hair. It was in a plait, he hadn’t noticed before, but it was falling out, little strands dangled against her neck and down her arm.

The looseness was intoxicating, the smell of her perfume, even after the day she had, clung to her like a second skin. Rosebuds and warm, clean air, the scent he would always associate with her. 

“Do you think that the rest of them are still awake?” Lily said, taking her glasses off and laying them beside his on the sofa cushion behind them.

James’ senses went to high alert. What was she asking? He could hear the steady rise and fall of Lupin’s breath and the shifts and shuffles as Sirius settled into a comfortable position. Marlene was still, as was Peter, although he continued to snore like a freight train. His face flushed as he considered her question. It may be their dormitory, but their friends were here. Sleeping maybe, but lightly, and they were always at risk of waking up prematurely. 

James craned his neck to take a look at the mantle clock, which was ticking serenely, the minute hand just moments before the hour. 

“Merlin’s saggy left _bollock_,” he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. “It’s almost three in the morning.” 

“Then I guess we’d better say goodnight,” Lily said, sitting up suddenly. James took in an involuntary gulp of air and leaned back on his forearms as Lily let the sheets fall off her and sat on the edge of his bed, a familiar expression on her face. Lily reached down, flattening the pieces of his fringe away from his brow, as James sat, stunned. Watching her, simultaneously wishing she would move closer and further away. He felt his breath catch as she leaned down and pressed her lips against his. 

“You were so brave, tonight,” Lily said, pulling away, peppering kisses against his jawline. “Earlier, I’d be much worse off if it wasn’t for you,” 

“It was Marlene,” James said between breaths, leaning up suddenly to cradle her head in his hands. “She was the one—the one who, y’ know...” 

“Did it?” Lily asked, moving to settle between his knees. “No, you’re wrong. You made the call like a leader, let the others play to their strengths. You didn’t play the hero, but Amelia is saved, and our friends are safe.” She leaned down and kissed him again, and James’ heart pounded in his chest, “James—this man you’re growing to be—I’d follow you anywhere.” 

He reached up, his fingers unconsciously pulling at her braid and untangling it, kissing her with an enthusiasm he’d always had for her, the love he wished he could share with her. 

“You’re so beautiful,” James whispered, his voice full of awe, running his shaking hands over her cheeks. “_Gods_, Lily, you’re so beautiful,” 

Lily smiled, her face wide and vulnerable and leant closer to him, hooking her toes around his calves.

“Pretty everything,” he confirmed, reaching up to kiss the freckle above her left cheekbone. “Assume I’ve gone mad if I say something otherwise,” 

Lily reached down, her hands spanning his chest, and his breath caught unconsciously. He was so tactile; every touch sent his mind reeling, every thought other than those of her evaporated into mist. She arched her fingers, and her nails ran down his chest. He tossed back his head and groaned, neurons firing faster than he could process them. “Don’t start something you’re not willing to finish,” James said under his breath, his eyes closing outside of his control. 

Lily smiled and lay on top of him in a loose embrace without another word, arms wound about his neck, hair spilling down his chest. His control on the situation was waning with each passing second, and he struggled to remain still, not to adjust and spoil everything. Because what was she expecting? Was she going to—going to— did she expect to— 

Merlin, when was the last time he found himself in this mess? He hadn’t slept with a bird in over a year, what if he was rubbish? He couldn’t, wouldn’t be rubbish in bed with Lily Evans. He refused, he’d die of embarrassment. 

Lily’s fingers reached down and played with the hem of his sleep shirt, but as she did, she yawned widely and sat back onto her heels to recover her breath.

James sat up also, enjoying the feel of her knees between his thighs. He let out something like a sigh of relief and kissed her forehead. “Maybe another time, Evans.”

“Promise?” 

“Course,” James said, more relieved than he could say, but also disappointed in a way he couldn’t explain. Would he have shagged Lily in a room full of his sleeping mates? James knew she deserved better than that, flowers and violins and all the other shite birds liked. But in the heat of the moment, her moving to kneel between his thighs, her hair like a curtain shielding away the rest of the world... he reckoned he might have. And when she leaned forward like that— her breasts were so close, her breath so warm against his own… if they had gotten much farther, he would’ve had her without a second thought. 

“I’ve wanted to since I knew what it was, especially with you,” James admitted, his breath quiet and thick. “You surpass every one of my fourth-year daydreams,” 

“Gross,” Lily said, wrinkling her nose, sitting back at the foot of his bed. “Good to know that there was something important on your mind while you stared holes into the back of my head in History of Magic,” 

James chuckled, and Lily sat up, pulling her mattress closer to James’ so the two touched, leaning over to kiss him one last time and then tucking herself back into her sheets. 

“Goodnight, James,” 

“‘Night, Evans,” 

James, happier and more content than he had been in ages, reached out and took hold of her hand, and held it close. And as the minutes passed in silence, the dying light of the candles and the steady pulse of her heartbeat lulled him to sleep. 

… 

The next morning came about with bright morning light filtering through the open drapes. Sirius woke before the rest of them, taking a moment to remember where he was, before rising and walking with care around Peter’s and Lupin’s beds on his way to the toilet. He looked over to the hearth, where he knew Lily and James would be. They had fallen asleep together, their beds connected, sheets tangled about them both. They looked peaceful in sleep, James’ head rested on her shoulder, and their hands were held together loosely between them. They had made their peace, perhaps more than he wanted to think about.

Sirius had dated before, but time and again, he had learned that he just wasn’t the dating type. Love was elusive to him, always a half step out of reach. He didn’t resent his mates when they found birds they fancied, but James was his _best_ mate. They did everything together, achieved their Animagus’ one after the other in fifth-year, the last of their friends to do so. They lived together in his parent’s house over the summer hols, told each other everything. James had been chasing Lily for years, longer and more intensely than any of the other girls he had fancied. He had told Sirius more than once that he was going to marry her someday. Still, it was usually prefaced with bold (and often drunken) declarations about his future as the starting chaser for Puddlemore or the likely chances of going on a date with the beautiful barmaid at the Three Broomsticks. Sirius never thought that he was particularly serious about any of these proclamations in his sober state, but a small part of him was afraid that he did. If he married Lily, he would have no use for his old school mates, not with a woman like Evans on his arm. The thought of them together made him feel strangely alone— as if James had reached a previously unpronounced step and left the rest of them behind.

Sirius’ heart gave a nasty lurch, the stifled conversation they had had the night before at the forefront of his mind. Were they not closer than that? 

James had wanted Sirius to take the others back to their dormitory safely, saying that he’d be there in a minute. Couldn’t he have helped better than being an over-glorified bodyguard for some of Evan’s friends? He had snapped at James about loyalties, were they not best mates? Didn’t they do everything together? And since when did they listen to what McGonagall had to say about being out of bed? 

The lie he concocted fell smoothly out of thin air, the loose pieces of the confusing and increasingly convoluted narrative settling in a way that hid the more troubling bits of the truth. The Room was a secret one he would take to his grave, it was theirs and no one else’s, and the fucker who was trapped up there would stay until he said otherwise. He regretted it now, fighting with James was the last thing he wanted to do, but what choice did he have? James had forced his hand, but he’d keep the Marauder’s secrets even if James wouldn’t. 

The rest of them were still asleep, but Sirius didn’t need much rest to get by, and there was so much he still needed to do. After tidying himself up in the bathroom, (and borrowing a shirt and a pair of trousers from James on the way), he made his way out of the dormitory. 

Unsurprisingly, the castle was quiet. It was still early on a Sunday morning, and anyone with any sense was still in bed. He took his wand in hand and then took down the hall towards a shortcut to the seventh-floor corridor. 

The wall that hid the Room of Requirement was innocuous and blank; the painting of Barnabas the Barmy was snoring loudly opposite. He paced the blank wall back and forth three times, asking for the Room to show them the man they immobilized the night before. 

The door appeared slowly, and Sirius seized the wrought-iron handle and entered. 

This iteration of the Room of Requirement was much the same as it was earlier, the same cabinets and wardrobes open and spilling their contents; the high windows spilled the late morning light in panels on the floor. He walked forward, his wand held steadily in front of him, towards the chair to which they had bound Amelia’s attacker. Even with the light, the shadows deepened towards the back corners of the room, and he was nearly at the chair when he noticed the ropes were loose and piled on the floor, the chair empty and unoccupied. 

Sirius spun about, casting the same charm he had the night before illuminating the space as a whole. He turned on the spot, checking all four corners, behind cabinets and wardrobes, before he came to the numbing realization that he had escaped. 

Sirius tore from the Room, making for Lily and James’ dormitory. If Amelia’s attacker was after her in particular or just happened to be in the way was still a mystery to them. She was still in the Hospital Wing, unprotected and most likely asleep. Sirius had to find him as quickly as possible. 

He slid the last length of the corridor in his haste to reach the door. It had only taken him and Remus three guesses before they guessed the password (_Noble_, his arse), and repeated it before the door swung open in front of him. 

Sirius could’ve torn his hair out; they were all here! Still sleeping! 

“He got out!” He shouted, moving to shake James awake. “Amelia’s attacker, he escaped!” 

Marlene sat up like a shot, wriggling her way out of her sheets and scrambling for her wand. 

“Wha?” Peter said, pulling a Muggle sleeping mask from his face with a dopey expression. 

“He’s not in the Room?” Remus asked, pulling on his trainers with his wand between his teeth. 

“Obviously not!” Sirius said, poking James hard in the chest before he too sat up, squinting as he reached for his glasses. Lily was already moving, reaching for her wand on the mantle before rushing off towards her dormitory. Sirius watched with exasperation as James’ eyes followed her around the corner and smacked him on the back of the head to get his attention. 

“He escaped, you prat!” Sirius yelled again. “We need to find where he went!” 

James took off for the other side of the room, pulling on his dressing gown and tucking his father’s Invisibility Cloak into his pocket. 

“He might have tried the Hospital Wing,” Lily said, rushing out of her dormitory fully dressed. “We should try there first.” 

“Right on,” Remus said, nodding at Marlene and Peter as they took for the door. 

… 

Their run to the Hospital Wing was wrung with panic. Sirius was panicking; Mary was there too, defenceless and most likely asleep. Madame Pomfrey wouldn’t have thought to watch over them throughout the night, and God knows when the fucker escaped. 

James and Sirius reached the bottom landing first and took for the double doors of the Hospital Wing together. But upon opening it, the room was quiet, the two beds bearing Amelia and Mary remained occupied but peaceful. Mary had jolted awake when the door opened, sitting up with a look of shock and confusion on her face, but Amelia slept on— still, but breathing steadily. 

“What happened?” Mary asked, squinting with heavy eyes. 

“Amelia’s attacker,” Lily said quietly, looking over at her sleeping friend. “He escaped the bonds Sirius and James put on him; he’s loose somewhere in the castle.” 

“We came to see if you two were still safe,” Remus said, moving over to Mary and squeezing her hand in his own. 

“But he’s not here,” Sirius noted with a tone of exasperation. “We have to keep looking. Peter, make yourself useful and watch over them,” 

“Me?” Peter said indignantly, looking rather foolish in his night things with only one slipper on his foot and a sleeping mask on his forehead. “What’d I do to deserve guard duty?” 

“You’re not the speediest, Pete, and we’ll be moving quickly,” James said, catching eyes with Remus, who shrugged noncommittally. “No offence,” 

“None taken,” he said dejectedly, sitting at the foot of Amelia’s bed with a look of resignation. 

“Okay,” Sirius said, “here’s the plan, we’ll start from the ground floor and work up, moving from wing to wing if we need to,” 

“Should we get Alice?” 

“We’ll wake her when we get to Gryffindor tower,” James assured her. 

“She won’t like that,” Marlene said, crossing her arms. “We need all the help we can get.” 

“But we’re also tight for time, we have no way of knowing how long he’s been loose for,” Sirius responded, looking down at his pocket watch. 

“Fine,” Lily said. “But we should tell McGonagall. We need to be working with the teachers, so we’re all on the same page.” 

“Okay,” said James, turning towards her. “But I don’t want any of us going alone. We’re going together or not at all.” 

“That’s what I was going to say,” Remus noted, looking towards the Matron’s office door. “Well said,” 

“So long as we’re all in agreement, we’re losing time,” Sirius said, clearly exasperated. “Come on, let’s start looking. We’ll tell McGonagall he’s out when we get to her classroom.” 

Lily opened the heavy door and closed it softly behind her while the others ran ahead, already halfway up the marble staircase when they saw McGonagall coming out of a corridor to their left. She was cross but calm. “And just where do you think you’re going?” she said, her lips pursed tightly. 

“We went to visit Mary and Amelia,” Marlene said quickly, and Remus swallowed. 

“Then why particularly do you seem so keen to travel in the opposite direction?” She said as Professors Flitwick and Sprout appeared from behind her, the latter looking rather harried and windswept. “Well?” 

“Nothing, professor,” 

“Well then,” McGonagall said, sweeping her robes together. “There seems to be no particular need for you to be anywhere but your beds, where you were instructed to be.” 

James groaned, and McGonagall looked up sharply. “Anything to add, Mr. Potter?” 

“We were wondering,” he said, fighting to steady his voice, “if you knew anything about Amelia’s attacker,” 

“The assailant was apprehended just before six o’clock this morning by a small legion of Aurors,” McGonagall said stiffly. “Your assistance in this matter has been noted, but your example would be prudent, Mr. Potter,” 

James nodded, not quite meeting her eyes. 

“We’ll do just that, professor,” Marlene said. “And stay there.” 

“Good,” McGonagall said. “Instructions will be given by Professor Dumbledore in an hour or two. Off you go, all of you. I assume you know the way,” 

McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick, (and a squat figure Lily couldn’t quite make out, but assumed to be Slughorn) disappeared down the corridor. 

“Well, that’s that, I suppose,” Marlene said after the teachers left, joining the others as they made their way back up to their Common Rooms.

“I still wish we could’ve caught him ourselves,” Sirius said shortly, taking each step with perhaps more force than necessary. 

“I think we ought to be thankful someone did instead of wishing for an alternative outcome,” Lily said shortly. “What’s done is done,” 

The walk up six flights of stairs was mostly silent. By the time they made the turn to James and Lily’s dormitories, James stopped suddenly. 

“Gryffindor is up another flight,” he said, and Sirius stopped in his tracks, looking confused. 

“I thought we decided that we’d use your dormitory for the next little bit,” Remus said delicately. 

Lily glared at James, “You’d be very welcome,” 

“No, he wouldn’t be,” 

“Yes, he would! They all would!”

“Evans, it’s our—,”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Lily interrupted and waited as the others walked around the corner before continuing.

“What did I do?” 

“You were rude to our friends!” Lily exclaimed. “It couldn’t possibly have been more obvious.” 

“This is our dormitory,” James said, trying to keep the whine out of his tone. “Ours, not theirs,” 

“We’re not an island!” Lily said, stamping her foot. “We’re not even a couple! They’re your friends, and mine too, and you have no right to speak to them like that,” 

“I want it just to be the two of us,” James said. “Like we were last night! I miss—I miss what we had,” 

“James, there are more important things than that right now!”

Was there? James thought. Were there more important things than how he felt about her, the love he held for her, the damn impulse he was beginning to have to protect her at all cost? Did that mean nothing to her? He looked down at his trainers, not brave enough to meet her eyes. “In the mornings, I miss how comfortable it was. “In our pyjamas; just the two of us,” 

“You miss seeing me in my nightie?” Lily said aghast. “It hasn’t even been twenty minutes since you saw me in it last.” 

“But the rest of them were there too,” he said, his voice taking on a different tone. “Spoiling everything,” 

“James, they’re our friends,” Lily said. “We’re all worried about Amelia; they were just trying to be friendly,” 

“We’re supposed to be just by ourselves!” James said, looking up suddenly. “In isolation! McGonagall said so!” 

“Oh, you are a child,” Lily said, stopping and turning to face him, folding her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not a prize to be won, nor am I a possession for you to hoard for yourself. I am a person who has friends other than you, and more important things to worry about than whatever the hell we are these days! You’re such a _child_,” 

Lily began to turn, and James’ heart lurched and suddenly took hold of her arm. 

“Let go of me,” Lily said, wrenching out of his grip. 

“No,” he said, stepping closer to her. “We need to talk,

“No,” Lily countered, meeting his gaze. “You need to get your priorities straight. You’re acting like a child, so until you shape up, I’ll treat you like one. Goodbye, James,”

James groaned, pulling at his hair with his hands as she walked away. What the hell was she playing at? He? A child? This was so backward, wrong. Didn’t she see how much he’d grown up for her? What he wanted wasn’t childish, wasn’t wrong, he just wanted _her,_ her and her alone. Why couldn’t she see that? 

His heart slowed as he watched Lily walk down the corridor with the others, and he kicked the door in frustration, which left him with a sore foot and the same frustrations as he had before. But he had the cloak, and McGonagall said that Dumbledore was back. Without thinking, he pulled out his father’s old cloak and slipped it on, and quietly walked the distance to the Headmaster’s office, hellbent on answers. 

… 

Luckily, Slughorn had taken longer than the other teachers to enter Dumbledore’s office, and he was able to slip in just behind him as the stone gargoyle turned to admit him. He took a step hastily up the rotating staircase to the Headmaster’s office. 

Several voices were coming from behind the door, and he stood a half step behind Slughorn as he knocked. 

“Come in,” Dumbledore said, and the commotion silenced at once. 

The three other Heads of House were already present, as was the Auror Crouch, and several other wizards and witches he assumed to be Aurors as well. Dumbledore looked travel-weary, but attentive as Crouch pointed his finger repeatedly at a wizard just to his left. He was grizzled, with black hair and dark, beady eyes that looked around suspiciously as he and Slughorn entered the room. James’ eyes grew round. He must be Amelia’s attacker. 

“If you could refrain from expletives in this office, I would be most grateful,” Dumbledore said, his eyes bright and merry. 

“Of course, Dumbledore,” the man said stiffly, “I didn’t realize she was a student-,” 

“But ready nonetheless you were, Alastor,” Crouch said with a blazing look in his eyes. 

“Curse ready indeed,” the Alastor man replied, returning his wand to its holster, his beady eyes fixed on Crouch. “It is my job to think as dark wizards do,” 

“Dark wizards?” Slughorn said, turning to “There are no dark wizards at Hogwarts, you’d be mad to believe it.” 

“Hogwarts has always been safe,” McGonagall says sharply. “There is no reason and no excuse for cursing an innocent girl!” 

James took a step backward to avoid Slughorn’s nervous pacing, flattening himself as best as he could against the bookshelf behind him, but if Slughorn noticed, he said nothing. 

“What say you, Dumbledore?” 

Dumbledore looked calm, if tired. His travelling cloak was thrown over the back of his chair, and his robes were muddy and stained. “I agree,” Dumbledore said, looking at those assembled down his nose. “With Minerva. Hogwarts is a place of learning, a safe place for students and faculty alike. Such actions will not be taken lightly, Barty, I will not have dangers unpronounced and unwarranted in this school.” 

Crouch nodded stiffly, casting furious looks in the Auror Moody’s direction, but they appeared to go unnoticed. 

“Horace, alert your house, Filius, Pomona and Minerva, yours as well. Remain in your common rooms; I will alert the Elves to provide you all with breakfast.” 

“Right you are,” Slughorn said and turned to leave without another moment’s thought. The others followed close behind. 

As Dumbledore turned, James could have sworn he saw those bright blue eyes hovering over him for a moment before finding Moody’s again. 

“Your actions, while undoubtedly regrettable,” Dumbledore continued. “Have had no lasting effects. Madame Pomfrey has just informed me that Miss Bones has regained consciousness and is very likely to make a full recovery.” 

Several of the portraits exhaled gratefully, but James kept his eyes fixed on Dumbledore. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt the girl—,” 

“Nonetheless,” Dumbledore continued, and Moody turned apprehensively towards him. “Aurors will continue to patrol Hogwarts until the war is won, and I hope to see you among their numbers.”

“He cursed a child, Dumbledore!” Crouch said firmly, pointing a finger towards Moody. “He should be banished from the grounds!” 

“I believe that I have made my decision and opinion on the matter clear, Barty, but I am happy to reconfirm them if it would put you at ease,”

“He will be put under an investigation,” Crouch said, standing suddenly. 

“What you do with your Aurors is quite beyond my control,” Dumbledore said, standing. “But I have been away from Hogwarts for some time, and have many things to tend to before the day is finished.” 

Moody rolled a smile about on his lips before exiting after Crouch, and James surged forward to catch the door before it closed. 

“I do believe I deserve a word, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore said quietly, and James froze, and swore under his breath before pulling off the cloak. 

“Yes, professor?” 

“Your position as Head Boy would’ve granted you permission to participate in such discussions if you had asked,” he paused, and James swallowed nervously. “However there is something to be said for a silent observer.” 

“Yes—yes, professor,” 

“Take a seat; there is something I’d like to discuss with you,” 

James pulled out the chair recently occupied by Moody and sat, his hands fidgety on his lap. 

“That cloak is admirable,” Dumbledore said, looking down at James. “May I?” 

“Of course,” James pulled the cloak from his dressing gown pocket and watched as Dumbledore ran his hands over the silvery fabric. 

“An invisibility cloak lacking rips or tears are rare things these days,” Dumbledore said, folding it carefully on his desk. “I, of course, do not require a cloak to become invisible, if you would pardon an old man on his vanity, James, 

James smiled quietly. 

“Where did you acquire such a thing?” 

“It was my fathers’,” James responded. “A Potter family heirloom,” 

“Of course,” Dumbledore said. “And what an heirloom it is.” 

“Professor?”

Dumbledore smiled and looked down at James. “Yes?” 

“Where have you been? I’ve been asking after you, but no one would tell me where you’d gone,” 

“They couldn’t have told you,” Dumbledore said. “No one knew. But that is a story for another day, James, and we have much more pressing matters to discuss.” 

“I thought that might be the case,” 

“Your actions last night in the Room of Requirement, from all accounts spoken and unspoken, were notable. You may have saved her life,” 

“How did you know about that?” 

“I surmised, and you confirmed,” Dumbledore said, smiling. “But that is neither here nor there. I am rather more clever than the average man,” 

“Sirius did more than I did, sir," James said. "He blocked Moody’s hex faster than I could’ve, and it was Marlene—,”

Dumbledore held up a hand, and James slowed to silence. 

“When I decided in July to appoint you as the Head Boy, there were many who held, shall I say? Grudges, misconceptions of your character. Many thought me a fool for thinking you responsible enough for the role of Head of the school.” 

James fought to hold Dumbledore’s eye, but very nearly failed. His eyes were such a vivid blue, and although he was far from shouting, or even holding an accusatory voice, James felt as if he had failed. Those rumours that Dumbledore had gone off his rocker in appointing him were not news to him, they had chased him since September, and the feelings of inadequacy and failure stuck to him like glue after the confidence of the day had passed. Dumbledore’s opinion meant everything to James, and he’d rather be stuck in detention for the rest of his life than see those sad blue eyes on him for one more moment. He felt he should explain, offer examples of his proficiency, his maturity. He had grown tenfold since June; surely, he saw that? 

“Yes, sir,” 

“However, I had my reasons for your appointment. You are clever, surefooted, brave and loyal to a fault. When Amelia Bones seemingly disappeared from Hogwarts itself, I waited to see what you would do. When you hypothesized that she might’ve been held hostage in the Room of Requirement, you enabled your friends to work as a team, played to your strengths and worried for others’ safety ahead of your own. You protected Mary, rescued Amelia. It couldn’t have been done without you. And just now, sneaking into my office in your father’s invisibility cloak to report back, no doubt to tell your friends about what the final sentencing would be. I’m impressed, James,” 

“You shouldn’t be,” James said. “You make me out to sound like some sort of hero. I’m not. I just did what anybody else would’ve done.” 

“Nonetheless, the day is saved. Alastor Moody is a prodigious Auror, top of his class and experienced in catching Dark wizards. How Miss Bones strayed into his path is a mystery I hope you’ll help me to untangle,” 

“Sir?” 

“Amelia is awake, James. Ask her what happened. Work with your friends to discover what occurred after she was kidnapped.” 

James looked down, embarrassed. “I’m not really speaking to my friends at the moment,” 

“Not even Lily?” 

James shook his head. “I said some things out of turn, and we fought. Ten minutes ago, that’s why I’m here,” 

“Well then,” Dumbledore said, standing up suddenly. “Then I do believe it your responsibility as Head Boy to rectify the situation.” 

“Sir?” 

“It was, one could say, not an accident that you find yourselves in a shared dormitory,” Dumbledore said, his bright eyes twinkling, “I personally have found that proximity does wonders for exposing the true nature of things, wouldn’t you agree?” 

As James exited Dumbledore’s office, he felt Dumbledore’s words run through his mind. He walked, unconscious of his direction, but when he found himself at the corridor leading to both Gryffindor tower and his and Lily’s dormitory, he took the staircase with a look of determination in his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it more likely in my heart of hearts that level headed, justice-focused Amelia Bones might take pity on her dormitory mate Lily’s son come OotP if they had a history together. The only canonical age markers we have for Amelia Bones are in OotP, where she’s described as middle-aged with greying hair, and later in HBP when she’s identified by Fudge to be ‘middle-aged’. There’s a scene before Harry’s journey to the Ministry before his hearing in OotP where Sirius and Lupin declare a familiarity with her, which to me suggests a prior connection, if not only as friends of friends. She also is described as having a ‘booming’ voice, which might come from someone who roomed with the likes of Alice and Marlene and was kidnapped by Mad-Eye Moody, developing something of a loud opinion on justice in the process. 
> 
> Much like Lupin, who greyed prematurely due to his lycanthropy, I find it likely that Amelia Bones, having lost Marlene, Lily, James and Peter to premature death, Sirius to Azkaban and then Alice and her husband Frank to insanity, she might grey earlier in life than one might have done in other circumstances. I love having both her and Alice in this, as it paints a much more cohesive narrative to the canon and the Marauder era with familiar names and backstories. 
> 
> Also, sorry not sorry to Alice for booting you back to Gryffindor Tower, and later Peter to the Hospital Wing, I just can’t coordinate nine (NINE) people at once, because quite frankly that is nine people too many. 


	11. For All the Love That Never Came

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James returns from Dumbledore's office with new news about Amelia's kidnapping, the Marauders and Lily's friends make a plan.

**Magnified, sanctified, be thy holy name**

**Vilified, crucified, in the human frame**

**A million candles burning for all the love that never came**

**You want it darker**

**We kill the flame**

**-You Want it Darker, Leonard Cohen**

...

The walk to Gryffindor tower was a short one, and James’ mind churned all the while with the thoughts of what he had just seen and heard. Amelia’s attacker finally had a face, but it was gnarled and badly scarred, beady black eyes under a mop of brown hair. But he didn’t look afraid, James thought, he didn’t have the look of a cornered animal regretful of his actions. He looked like a man who was as unsure of the facts as James was—confused, a little startled. Uncertain of how to proceed without his superior giving orders.

Before a few days ago, James knew Crouch only by reputation. His father had spoken about him over dinner, told them the rumours around the Ministry. His appointment as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was not an altogether unexpected one; Crouch had been a sitting judge for years. 

_But why was he here? _

James had no answer to his query. Out of all the decisions Dumbledore had made as of late, it was one he doubted had anything to do with Dumbledore’s thoughts or preferences, but rather that of the Ministry. Why would they interfere with Hogwarts? The Minister was a stout headed chap and would hold Crouch’s ear, no doubt if the rumours about Azkaban held any truth. If the Ministry was involved at Hogwarts, was there an infiltrator? 

It seemed unlikely to James that Moody had done the crime on his own. It seemed out of character, from what little James knew about him. But if Dumbledore had faith in him, perhaps he had more facts than was willing to divulge. James could claim no personal relationship to Dumbledore, in his years at Hogwarts; he had been to that office for scoldings more often than to conference, James thought with a secret grin. Dumbledore trusted him enough to make him Head Boy, despite what must’ve been an outcry from the faculty. He had trusted him to get to the bottom of it, and that was precisely what he was going to do. 

He approached the Fat Lady and then stumbled at the last minute. Dumbledore had ordered that all students remain in their dormitories, and it was evident at the lack of the early morning breakfast crowd. It had been nearly a week since he had been back in Gryffindor tower, had they changed the password? Given everything that had happened? He imagined they would have, with a kidnapping afoot. He looked left and right, patting his pockets subconsciously before groaning at the realization that he didn’t even have the two-way mirror he and Sirius had invented. If he couldn’t get the password, it would be a long wait before he saw another Gryffindor. 

James took a step forward and cleared his throat. The Fat Lady jumped inside her frame, which upset her goblet and spilled wine down her front. 

“Er, Bandersnatch,” 

“Right you are,” she said, blotting her dress impatiently. The portrait swung on its hinges, and James scrambled through the portrait hole. 

The Common Room was crowded with students, more than usual for a Sunday morning. Gryffindors picked over the trays the House Elves had brought up and chatted here and there with their friends. The smell of bacon turned his belly, so he took a piece of toast before looking around for his mates. 

_Ah, there they are_, James thought, taking a sip and smiling as Remus waved him over. The Marauders were in their usual places, but Lily’s mates were there too, leaning against the stone fireplace. Lily, he noticed with a smile, was sitting cross-legged on a cushion in front of the only vacant chair.

“Wotcher,” Peter said, holding out a plate of sausages. “You hungry, James?” 

James groaned and tossed his hand in Peter’s direction before collapsing on the couch between Remus and Sirius. 

“How was your meeting with Dumbledore?”

“How did you know where I was?” 

“Followed you, didn’t I?” Remus said, patting his pocket serenely. “You’re not exactly stealthy, y’ know,” 

“Never said I was,” James said, somewhat dejectedly. “Maybe I fancied a bit of mystery,” 

“Oh, and what’s that when it’s at home?” Marlene said, her eyes teasing. 

“Never mind that!” Alice exclaimed. “What did you find out?” 

“Well,” James began, “the bloke who kidnapped Amelia is an Auror named Moody,” 

“An _Auror_?” 

“Well, I _never_,” said Alice, knitting her brows. 

“What did he have to say for himself?” Remus asked. 

“He said he wasn’t in his right mind, didn’t realize she was a student,” 

“Moody, eh?” Sirius said, sitting on the arm of his chair thoughtfully. “It sounds familiar. I think he was one of the Ministry personnel on darling Bella’s tail, her and her Death Eater pals. Didn’t catch them though, dammit,” 

“Crouch was incensed,” James recalled, “Dumbledore was cool as a cucumber through the whole ordeal, but it’s a miracle he didn’t get off worse,” 

“Do you think he could’ve faced the Wizengamot?" Lily asked, and James nodded. 

“And they would have been justified in doing so," he said. "But Crouch said he’d take care of it.” 

“Poor sod,” Peter said gloomily. 

“Poor sod?” said Alice, standing and staring down Peter, who looked like he’d much rather be someplace else. “He attacked Amelia! I don’t care what they do to him so long as he never again steps foot in this school!” 

“That’s not what he meant,” Remus said placatingly, but Alice ignored him.

“He attacked her! Mary rushed up and down the stairs with Tony last night and is in more pain than usual for doing so! James split his lip, Sirius has that nasty cut on his arm, and Lily’s leg bled for hours last night! He deserves all Crouch can throw at him,” Alice said, jutting her finger at Peter. “And more,” 

“Alice, sit down,” Remus said quietly, seemingly the only one among them to notice that silence had fallen, and near on a hundred Gryffindor's were hanging onto Alice’s every word. “This isn’t the time, nor the place,” 

“I agree,” Marlene said, downing the rest of her cup. “Shall we go down to the Hospital Wing?” 

“Dumbledore told everyone to stay put,” Lily said stoutly. “We’re the Heads of this school, and should lead by example,” 

James considered this, looking up to meet Lily’s steady gaze and nodded. “Of course, you’re right. I forgot.” He moved to sit next to her and whispered in her ear. “Later though, when nobody’s looking, I have something to tell you,” 

…

A half-hour and a teapot of English Breakfast later, the Gryffindors had found more important things to do than hover and one by one; they snuck out of the Common Room to a designated meeting place just outside of the Great Hall. 

James’ eyes were heavy, and now that the excitement of the night before was beginning to wear off exhaustion was setting in. His jaw stun from the rogue curse Moody had fired at him the night before, and the many cuts and bruises that dotted his body stiffened his movements. His friends were much the same; the wound on Lily’s leg seemed to be better, not bleeding any more at the very least, which he found encouraging. James had watched as she pulled up the leg of her dungarees to show Sirius the cut, his heart clenched to see the uneven slice through flesh. James had bandaged it well, and that morning Remus had cast a clever healing spell on it, and it seemed to be healing well. 

They entered the Hospital Wing together. Mary was awake, and looking much like herself, but seeing Amelia asleep, they kept their voices low. 

“How are you feeling?” Marlene asked, squeezing Mary’s hand with a wide smile. 

“Better,” Mary said, “Not well, but better. Manageable. Tony snuck down to visit while the Matron slept, it was good to see him,”

“Tony?” James asked. “I should like to see him; Dumbledore asked me to— to—” 

“To...” Alice continued suggestively. 

“To see how he’s been getting on,” James said in a tone he hoped was convincing. Lily raised an eyebrow, but James kept his expression steady.

“James, he’s not your elderly aunt,” Sirius chastised. “He’s, y’ know, Mary’s bloke. What’s the big secret?” 

“It’s not like that,” James said. “Dumbledore asked me to keep an eye on things, that’s all,” 

“That’s all?” Sirius said. “The man couldn’t give a fig about you until he made you Head Boy, and now he’s giving you secret assignments? What gives?” 

“It’s not a secret,” James insisted. “And not important, either,”

Amelia stirred, likely from the noise as well as the light, and her eyes blinked open. Lily and Alice rushed to her side, and Mary smiled as Marlene sat abruptly at the head of her bed to watch. 

Amelia said something, but what it was, James couldn’t hear. Lily smiled and brushed her hand over Amelia’s hair as she cleared her throat and tried again. 

“I heard—I heard that you all went through a kerfuffle last night,” Amelia said quietly, and James grinned. “You needn’t have. I was quite all right on my own,” 

“Of course you were,” Remus said. “But we all need our friends, don’t we?” 

“Friends,” Amelia said thoughtfully. “Yes, we do, don’t we? I am so thankful for my friends,” 

“What did you see?” James pressed, his eyes searching into hers. A surplus of energy pulsed through his veins. If Amelia had seen something, it would be another account of the event; she might even have a description of her attacker. Something felt off about the whole thing, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “What happened on your way back last night?” 

“Well, it’s a funny thing,” Amelia said. “Sometimes—sometimes I think I remember, but then I don’t. It all slips away, and I’m not sure what’s real and what isn’t. I’m not sure what happened.” 

“Did you see anyone last night?”

“I saw a figure in the hall, tall, most likely a student. He was carrying— a book bag, that’s right. He said something, but I haven’t the faintest as to what he said. I thought I heard something behind me, and then,” Amelia snapped her fingers, and they all jumped. “Then nothing, I remember somebody carrying me, and then waking up in the Hospital Wing. Nothing more,” 

“Are you sure that you saw nobody else?” 

“What are you implying, James?” Amelia asked, knitting her eyebrows. “I’ve told you all that I remember. You seem to have more information about my accident than I do,” 

“No, it isn’t that,” Lily soothed, brushing a hand over Amelia’s sheets. “Try and get some rest, Ames. We’ll visit when we can,” 

“You know I don’t care for pet names, Lily Evans,” Amelia said cooly, and Lily smiled. “I have a name and prefer it to others, funnily enough,” 

“See you soon,” Mary said wistfully from her bed, “I’ll come to see you all when Madame Pomfrey releases me,” 

… 

“Well,” Alice said once they had left the Hospital Wing. “What now?” 

“Let’s regroup,” Sirius suggested before James had the chance. “In the Head dormitory, I don’t want to be overheard.” 

“Right on,” Remus said and took off up down the hall, the others in tow. 

James opened his mouth to object until he saw Lily, lovely Lily in the dungarees she had worn last weekend, smile at Marlene and Alice, and take to the stairs herself. He didn’t want to impugn on her happiness, but didn’t she prefer everything how it was? Just the two of them? 

Did she not see how wonderful things were when they were alone?

James sighed and followed his friends; his heart wrenching all the while in the loss of all that they had together. Is that how she saw him? A… a pretty face to snog and row with? A friend? A colleague? But she had said it herself, hadn’t she? 

Sirius turned about and gave James a funny sort of look before stopping on the stairs to wait. “What’s up?” He asked when James approached his spot on the stair. 

“Nothing,” 

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Sirius said. “You’ve been off all morning, what gives?” 

“I’m tired, is all,” James said, his eyes focused on Lily and her friends. “Could’ve done with a lie-in,” 

They walked up several staircases in silence, and James tried to ignore the way Sirius’ eye tried to catch his own every once in a while. 

“Are you still cut up about it?” James asked.

“About what?” 

“Last night, I said some things I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry for it now,” 

“Are you barking?” Sirius asked, turning around suddenly. “Since when does James Potter apologize for something?” 

“Well, I’m doing it now, aren’t I?” James said, irritated. “Why make a thing about it?” 

Remus had reached the door of their dormitory but stopped to let the others through while he held the door. “Is everything alright with you two?” he asked, and Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“Marvellous, Moony, as always,” Sirius said, leaving the others behind in the doorway. 

“What was that about?” Remus asked, catching James’ eye.

James took an exasperated breath, and Remus sighed before following.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the light streaming through the windows, but when they did, he found his friends sat here and there in and amongst their things looking just as sleepy as he was.

“I know we talked about having a discussion,” Marlene said, and a yawn split her jaw before she could continue. “But I’m _whacked_.”

“Can we just go to bed for a bit?” Peter said, a little pleading tone in his voice. “We’ve been up for almost a day straight.” 

“I agree,” Alice said, gathering her things around her bunk. “Oh, damn, it would be easier just to vanish the lot, wouldn’t it?” she said, and promptly did so.

“We should still talk,” Sirius said, not moving while the others bustled about collecting their things. “We have work to do,”

“Mate, I’m exhausted,” James said. “Amelia’s fine, she’s safe, and Mary could probably do with more of a rest as it is. It’s a Sunday, for Pete’s sake. Go to bed; we’ll talk later,”

Sirius threw him a steady non-plussed gaze James had long ago taken for indignation. He was annoyed, but James was far too tired to put up much of a fight. Sirius Vanished his things and followed as the others left in pursuit of a warm bed in Gryffindor tower—he hung about for a moment before closing the door behind him. Still, James was too pleased with the sudden turn of events to think much of it; they were alone, finally alone. He turned from the door and joined Lily on the sofa. 

“You’ll stay, won’t you?” Lily said sleepily, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Of course,” James said, resting his feet on Lily’s mattress. “Always,” 

Lily yawned and curled her legs up beside her. “We’ve been through a lot, you and I,” 

“More than our fair share, I reckon,” 

The fire crackled merrily, and James lifted his arm so it grazed the back of the sofa in a carefully practiced show of nonchalance. She was so warm and soft, and her hair smelled like roses, just the same as it always had.

“I trusted you last night,” she began softly. “More than I’ve ever trusted a man before,”

James’ heart seemed to stop; she thought he was a man? And he was, wasn’t he? Seventeen in all? He sat up a little taller and lowered his arm to rest on her shoulders. She leant in his chest almost subconsciously, and James grinned ear to ear, pleased with the turn of events. 

“And I trusted you,” James said and paused. “We make a good team, you and I,”

“I’m still worried about Amelia, though,” Lily said. “And Mary, the story doesn’t seem to add up. It feels as though we still have half the picture.” 

“We’ll find out more later,” James said with a yawn of his own. “I’m in rather desperate need of a wash and then bed,” 

“I agree,” Lily said, untangling herself and making towards her bedroom. “I need to change, but I’ll see you in a minute?” 

“Not if I don’t see you first,” 

… 

Twenty minutes later, James emerged from the loo in a cloud of steam, and Lily looked up from her perch on the sofa to see him mostly bare, if not for a towel covering the majority of his modesty. She turned about, not quite as sleepy as she was before. 

“Now, what are you blushing for?” James asked, taking a step forward. The towel about his waist dipped low against his hips with the movement, and she struggled to meet his eyes. “It’s just me.”

“Just you in nothing but a towel, I’ll remind you,” Lily said, taking hold of the back of the sofa as she stood. “I wasn’t expecting it, surprised, is all,”

James laughed a little laugh and tugged one hand through his damp hair. It stood up on end, the back not quite lying flat. But God, he was _gorgeous_. His arms, once lanky and disproportionate, were sculpted and slim, the place where his collarbones met his shoulders defined, little drips of water collected against the hollow of his throat. His arms were freckled and pale, his hands long-fingered and slender. He was Adonis, and if not for the faint sense of her dignity, she might ogle him all day long.

“See something you like, Evans?” James said, pulling his mouth into a half-smile.

“I—I,” Lily said, and then swallowed. “We need to talk... preferably clothed, ta,”

“Talk?” James asked.

“Yes, talk,” Lily said. “About y’ know,” 

James looked puzzled, and Lily sighed. “_Sleeping_, James. We need to talk about sleeping,” 

“What about it?” 

“Was last night,” she swallowed, “was last night to be the new normal?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Sleeping,” she said. “Sleeping…sleeping like we did last night,” 

“You mean together?” 

“Yes, I suppose I do,” 

James swallowed. “If it’s…if it’s what you want. But _only_ if it’s what you want.” 

“I do,” she said, her voice steady and sure. “Lately, I’ve not been sure of much, but I liked it. Sleeping in the same bed as you.” 

“Even with everything going on?

“I think it’s important to make our memories,” Lily said, taking a step forward. “Don’t you agree?” 

“And do you mean,” James asked, his eyes boring holes into her own. “Just sleeping? Sleeping together, or do you mean- _oomph_,” 

Lily stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck as she kissed him.

…

He struggled to keep the towel secured as she kissed him, standing on tiptoes all pressed up against him. He tried to relax, but what if it slipped? What would she do? How would she react? Would she be—would she be _pleased_ with what she saw? Or, more likely, would she blush and change the subject? 

Her hands moved up and down his back, her nails catching in a way that turned his brain to mush. He pulled back for a minute and looked at her with such love in his eyes, she was so small and sleepy and still kissing him the way that she was. 

“Not that I don’t love this,” James said a minute later. “But I think we’d best get you to bed,” 

He blushed, not realizing the implications of what he had said. He pulled his towel higher around his hips, trying to push back his growing feelings of arousal that always seemed to be present around her these days. Lily looked up at him and smiled, kissing him on the cheek before walking towards the sofa. 

“Get dressed,” she said with a laugh. “I’ll meet you in your room in a minute.” 

“See you in a minute, Evans,” 

... 

By the time Lily knocked on his door, James had changed into his pyjamas and was standing in his bedroom, seemingly lost in his own space. He looked up as she knocked, and when she opened the door, she was nearly regretting asking it. Was it too bold of her? Too soon? One shouldn’t be this nervous, not after all they had been through. And it was just sleeping, after all. There would be nothing improper about it. Just two mates, sleeping. In the same bed. Nothing to worry about.

“Can I come in?” she said softly, standing in the doorway. 

“Course,” he said, moving aside as she entered the room. “Yeah, of course.” 

She sat on his bed, the sheets neatly arranged from what they had been a minute ago. And the room was spotless; his broom was hung over the doorway, and his personal effects were lined up neatly on the chifferobe. His shoes were against the wall, laces tied. He was _neat, _and by all intentions, had made an effort to make it nice for her. 

His hair was still wet, and that look of slight panic had yet to leave his face. Lily patted the mattress next to her, and he sat, his hands knotted in his lap. 

“Just sleeping, right?” Lily said, taking one of his hands in her own. “Nothing to be nervous about,” 

“Right,” James said. “It’s not every day that someone like—someone like you sleeps with me. In bed! Sleeps in my bed!” 

Lily laughed, kissed his cheek. “I bet,” 

“That’s not what I meant,” James moaned, falling back against the sheets in abject mortification. 

“If it makes you feel any better, it’s not every day someone like you sleeps in the same bed as me, either,” Lily said, leaning back with him. 

He reached out a hand, curling up against her like it was natural like they had done this every night for the whole of their lives. He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear and kissed her cheek. “I love seeing you like this,” he said quietly. “In your jimjams, I like knowing that I’m the only man who gets to see you like this,” 

Lily flushed, her eyes wide with his admission. “Do you truly?” 

“I do, I like you best like this when we’re alone,” James said, swallowing, looking over at her after a moment of hesitation. “I like knowing—I like knowing that we can be honest with one another, that there are no secrets, nothing hidden. I like knowing that I’m the only man who gets to kiss you,” 

Lily smiled as he kissed her forehead, and then again as he pulled the sheets over them, and as they fell asleep, they moved closer together than they ever had been before. 

...

“James,” she whispered sometime later, the sun bright from the high windows. She curled up behind him and put her arms around his belly, but he was still asleep. He moved suddenly, and his mouth opened soundlessly before he tightened himself into a ball, his eyes clenched shut, and then thrashed about in his bed. Lily reached for him, but he was unresponsive.

“James?” She said, shaking his shoulder. “James, are you okay?” 

He rolled over and clung to her, his arms around her like a vice. She let herself be moved, and when he settled back against the sheets, she curled up in his arms, more concerned than she had been before. He muttered something, but she wasn't able to catch it, and when she turned to face him, tears dangled off of his eyelashes, and his face was tight in pain.

“James,” she said, leaning forward with her hands on either side of his face. “James, wake up, you’re having a nightmare,” 

His eyes peeled open slowly, and he looked embarrassed and turned away. “I’m sorry for waking you,” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Lily said, sitting up so she could see him. “_God_, James, never be sorry for having a nightmare. Are you okay?” 

“I will be,” he said, facing the wall. “Usually I can sleep through them,” 

“I’m sorry you have to go through that,” she said, brushing a curl away from his face. He clenched his eyes shut and tucked further into himself. “James, it’s not—it's not _shameful.” _

“Isn’t it?” he said, his face drawn. “I’m a grown man, an adult. I shouldn’t have them anymore,” 

Lily sighed. “I don’t think that’s how it works,”

“They’re pointless, they have no merit, but I can’t help—,” he sighed and then turned to face her, and she broke inside watching him wipe away his tears with a rough hand. “It was about you; they’re usually about you. Or my mates, but since that fight with Moody, they’ve gotten worse. You were hurt, and you—and you died. I watched you die; I wasn’t able to save you.” 

“I’m right here, James,” she said quietly, kissing his cheek and taking his hand. “I’m here, and I’m not going to leave you.” 

“You can’t know that,” James said shortly.

“No, but here’s what I do know,” Lily said, “We’re mates, yeah? You have friends, and a burden is best shared, not alone.” 

“But it’s not yours to bear,” James said stoutly, rolling over. “Go back to sleep, Evans,”

Lily turned their conversation over in her mind as she dropped back to the sheets. His nightmares were troublesome, especially if he’d had them for some time. It was so like him to worry over his friends, but now that true and real enemies had come and gone, they had more merit than they ever had before. They had been in a dangerous situation and had things not turned out well; there was the genuine possibility that she or one of their friends could have been seriously hurt. More than hurt, they could’ve died last night, and no one would've ever known what had happened to them. 

She rolled over, her worries eating away at her. James’ form was tight, he tucked into a ball facing the wall, but his breathing was deep and even. She rolled over herself and fell asleep with tears in her eyes. 

... 

An hour or so past before James woke up, and he found Lily already awake, sitting up against the headboard with a book. He didn't know how to face her, with his nightmare, with his embarrassment at waking her. He had tried to make this good for her, and he had spoiled everything with a stupid dream. She couldn't know how much this meant to him, her sleeping with him, staying with him. Even after how he had acted yesterday, she had still stayed. Lily didn't leave him to nightmare alone.

But wasn't that the worst of it? _Hadn't _he let her down by letting her see him like that? What did she think of him? That he was weak? Incapable? He hated feeling lesser to her; he felt so bare in her eyes.

What did she think of him? James Potter, seemingly capable of it all until the shadows come? Capable until he falls asleep? He couldn't—wouldn't. His friends needed him to be there for them, and he couldn't bear considering the alternative.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked politely, and Lily turned the page without looking up. 

"That move you pulled last night was bullshit," Lily said, turning the page of her novel without looking up.

James sat up, his face drawn. “I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s my problem to deal with,” 

“No, it's not,” she said, putting down her book. “And it breaks my heart that you don’t see it as I do. You’re not an island; you have friends that care about you! _I_ care about you! God, James, I want you to feel that you can be honest with me too,” 

James mumbled something, looking down at his lap.

"What was that?"

"I’m not very good at being honest with birds,” he said, louder this time. “But I’m not ready, not yet. I promise I will be; I want to be better for you,” 

"You need to be honest with yourself before you can be honest with me," Lily said, "and I won't push you, and it doesn't have to be me you talk to about this, but you need to tell somebody, James. Tell the wall for all I care, but keeping it bottled up inside isn't healthy!"

"It’s just—it’s selfish, you’d resent me,” 

“Would I?” Lily answered, running her hands through his hair, separating and smoothing his curls. “Well, we’ll never know if you don’t tell me,” 

James sighed, wriggling himself out of the sheets if only to give Lily a sense of impending doom. 

“I was upset if you must know,” 

“Upset? Why?” 

“I felt…no it’s no good. I’d feel like a fool,” 

“James,” Lily said, sitting up herself. “You should never feel foolish telling someone you care about your feelings. No matter how silly. We just went over this,” 

“I don’t think my feelings are silly,” James said, fixing his eyes on his lap. “I would hate for you to see me how I thought this afternoon. It’s below me, below you to hear it.” 

"I won't take self-deprecation from you," she said, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. It was stubborn, though, and stayed where it was. “_That's _below me to hear,” 

“I didn’t like your friends, in here with us,” he said rather quickly, catching her eye before fixing down at his lap once more. “It’s far nicer when it’s just us,” 

“And?” 

James sputtered, and then paused, fiddling with his hands the way she did when she was nervous. “I knew you’d take it the wrong way,” 

“I’m sorry, but is there a better way to take it?” 

“They were butting in, taking up space, and quite uninvited, I could add,” 

“James, you can’t possibly be serious,” said Lily. “That's the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” 

“If you would just listen—,” 

“No, you listen,” Lily said, rising to her knees and then her feet. “Listen to me. This relationship of ours has been a whirlwind of misunderstands and misconceptions, but this takes the lot. I am _not_ a prize to be won! I have worth other than that as your arm candy, thank you very much. And what’s more, are my friends to be the crumbs you scrape from your plate next? My dorm mates? Was the rescue of Amelia nothing more than a gallant attempt to win my hand?” 

“Win your hand? Listen to yourself—,” 

“No, _you_ listen. I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with this and enough is enough. I’ve had enough! What do you want from me, James? Do you want me to be your girlfriend? A companion? Someone, to hold captive while you go off and live your life?” 

“Lils, you misunderstand me,” 

“Do I?” Lily said, crossing her arms. “Do I indeed?” 

“You are,” James repeated, standing. He reached for her arms, but she wrenched them away. “I care about you, and I want us to be together. In whatever form that may be,” 

“But you want me just to yourself, and you don’t want to be honest with me,” 

James sighed, closing his eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” 

“Then what did you mean?” 

“I want us to be happy, as happy as two people can be together,” 

“So, you want us to have sex and be done with it?” 

“Ever the romantic,” James said, but his heart nearly bounded out of his chest, hearing those words coming from her lips. _Merlin_, did she truly?

“Well…” Lily asked with a tone in her voice.

“Well, what?” 

Lily rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist, the arm of her abandoned dressing gown levitated before slapping him across the face.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, casting a non-verbal charm to fend off her advances. “Can we talk about this?” 

“Are you going to think with your brain or your lower extremities?” 

“My brain, I should think,” James said, blushing. 

“You don’t understand,” she said firmly, and he struggled to meet her eyes. “I won’t be in a relationship like that, not ever. I am not yours, nor am I anybody else. I spent too many years trying to be what others expected of me. To be smarter, kinder, a better sister, an ideal daughter. I don’t intend to please my husband, should one come along, and I certainly don’t intend to please you. I am myself unto myself, and I won’t change to make you happy. I’m sorry, but I won’t,”

“I…I don’t expect you to. I’m more sorry than you know if you thought otherwise of me. I just think I know what’s best, that’s all.” 

“Oho,” Lily said, a new sort of fire in her eyes. “Do you now?” 

“Yes,” James said, seemingly unaware of the fire burning in her expression. “We make each other happy, don’t we? Shouldn’t we keep making one another happy? Only if you’re happy, I know I would be too. And we’re happiest together, so shouldn’t we stay together? It’s only logical,” 

“Logical, is it?” Lily said, taking a step forward. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you. Lord knows we’ve done more than our fair share. But if you think I’m about to lie down and take this masochistic bullshit from you, you of _all_ people— you’ve another thing coming.” 

“I thought we had each other’s backs?”

“And I thought you said you wouldn’t make me choose my friends over you!” Lily said, her eyes blazing. “What kind of a shit move is that?”

“I didn’t make you choose—,”

“Didn’t you?” Lily said, her hands gesturing widely in anger. “We were having fun, staying in our dormitory, staying _together_, and you had to be the ball crusher and kick them out! Without asking, may I add, given that this dormitory is fifty percent mine.”

“All I’m asking is that we take some time to ourselves, too,” James said, his hands making little placating motions to try and calm her down, which were to no avail. She seemed angrier than she had before. “Everything was so good before. And, Dumbledore wants me to figure out why Moody cursed Amelia, which I’ll need your help with,”

“You’re seventeen years old!” Lily exclaimed in frustration. “Sometimes I think you forget that. There are teachers, Aurors. I’m sorry, but Dumbledore is wrong, _this isn't your job!" _

“I’m not alone,” James said, his eyes on his trainers. “I have you, don’t I?”

“What about your Marauders?”

James paused. “What about them?”

“They’re your best mates? You do everything together? Just last week, you wouldn’t have given me the light of day had Sirius _fucking_ Black not given the okay. I’m not anything, not _anything_ to you, or anybody else, okay? We’re not an _item_, we’re not _exclusive_, and we're not going to be honest with one another, we’ve no reason to drag this out any further than we have to. I should ask McGonagall to put us back in our own—,”

James stepped forward, took hold of her waist, and kissed her, not quietly or demurely, but with purpose and intention. He squeezed his eyes shut as a tear slipped past unannounced and framed her face with his hands, his heart broke as her own hands dangled absently by her sides, and her mouth closed against his own. He leaned forward, forehead to forehead, and tried to tell her how much he loved her, how much he needed her, how much all of this meant to him, even after all that had happened. She needed to know that she was it for him; this was inevitable. He’d love no one as much as he loved her.

“Baby,” he whispered, his head resting on her shoulder. “Don’t tell me that all love is bound for catastrophe,”

Something quiet gripped James’ heart, and he stepped back, struggling to keep tears from slipping past unwelcome and unannounced. He sniffed and turned around.

“I think,” Lily said, swallowed and looked up. Her eyes were swimming with an emotion he didn’t recognize. “I’m tired; we’ll talk about this when we’re reasonable.” 

James stood and watched while she walked away, down the corridor and out of sight. 

…

James stood for longer than he'd admit to in the doorway of his bedroom, not willing to turn around and face a bed without her in it. She had only slept in here for a night, but the evidence of their brief cohabitation littered every available surface. Her novel sat open on the side table, it's spine peeling and cracking from overuse. The smell of her perfume hung lightly in the air, dancing on the late afternoon sunbeams. He put a hand on her side of the bed, and the sheets were still warm.

James slipped into the Common Room, his hand resting on his doorframe. Lily's scrunchies were there, her reading glasses and school books, tangled in, and amongst his things. A letter, half-written, was sitting on the desk. The rubbish from their impromptu slumber party angered him, the leftover sheets and clothes of his friends littered all around him. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and Vanished the lot, and then sat with a sniff on the sofa, head in his hands.

It was too much, too much with her, too much to be without her. James remembered the way her hair hung in a curtain around them last night, the feeling of her thighs between his knees, the heat of her breath against his lips; kisses shared too numerous to count. How wonderful, he thought, to have too many happy memories to count.

Lily’s mattresses and sheets littered the space beside the hearth, and even after she was gone, the smell of her perfume lingered on his pillow. He remembered the feeling of her skin, soft and smooth as cream, the tickle as her hair ran across his neck—

God, he missed her. She was just down the hall, but he missed her as much as if she was on another planet. He missed her, and he loved her, and he didn’t know if he could survive missing her the way he did now. She was fiery and personable and angry. Angry with him, but for what? Didn’t he know best? James didn’t know what to think, of her, their relationship, of any of this. He had always thought love was a straightforward affair; love was natural and comfortable and complimentary. But with Lily, it wasn’t. It wasn’t any of those things. It was simple when they were younger, but his love for her bordered on the excessive and then receded as if it was an addiction and not a love affair.

There was a time when he knew everything there was to know about her. She took porridge, brown sugar, and a little dip of cream for breakfast. Never nutmeg, he knew. She was allergic. She wore tortoiseshell reading glasses in the Common Room and let them slip down her nose while she was deep in thought. He didn’t spy on her, not really, but one of the chiefest reasons behind the creation of the Marauder’s Map was his desire to know where she was. Watching her little footsteps move about on the map provided him with a strange sense of calm. Evans was safe. She was okay. There was a war going on outside, but so long as he could keep Lily Rosamund Evans safe, he would be okay too.

By sixth year, his love for her had stagnated, a still pool of thought. It was when the Prophet began being infiltrated by the Ministry, and owls returned hurt and missing their post. The news (when it was truthful) was bleak. The war was a gradual thing, slow-moving and but always coming nearer. There was no sudden flood; it was something closer to a slippage, each day a shade murkier than the one before.

Throughout the uncertainty, Hogwarts remained isolated, an island in the storm. Dumbledore was the figurehead he always had been, and as bad as things seemed, they had Dumbledore. The best wizard the world had seen in generations, and for the moment, Hogwarts was safe. But the fear and anticipation of the years to come was tangible, thick in the air. Muggy and damp to the touch. The time now to keep friends close and enemies that much closer.

Sixth year was when her dad died. Early February, he had gone out to collect the paper and was hit by a Muggle car. Later, they told her that he had died instantly; there was nothing to be done. The light went out in her eyes, and for weeks she didn’t say a word to him, to anyone. His death had hollowed her from the inside out; her dad was gone, and he’d never come back for her. She had told him then that she wasn’t sure if she was going to the funeral. It’d be too much, she'd said. She had rowed with her sister, and her mother was so lost in herself that her visit wouldn’t have amounted too much. There’s no use, she had told him, in going back. Hogwarts was where she belonged.

She cut her hair, sheared it with a quick, un-remorseful severing charm, and she hadn’t quite been the same since. It was still wavy, still red and beautiful, but the brightness inside of her has been exhaled— snuffed out, and executed. Her father was dead, and the person she had been would never come back.

The man who taught her chess and Scrabble and how to drive a Muggle car was gone, and she might never be the woman she once was. Brave and firm and steadfast always, but always crumbling; a sail in the wind a moment from blowing away.

For months she was inconsolable, quiet, and downcast. She didn’t leave her dormitory for much, Alice brought her schoolwork and Marlene her meals, and for months he looked up whenever they entered the room, dying for just a look of her. He had heard that Madame Pomfrey had given her something to sleep. Not that he was watching her, but for hours at a time, he’d follow her stagnant footprints on the map, will her to get up, to keep living. Mr. Evans would never want his daughter to die herself on his account.

Two weeks later, on a Tuesday in the middle of March, she came to the Common Room, then to classes and meals, and he exhaled gratefully at her return. But something had changed, the easiness she had once worn was replaced with stillness, and the friendly smiles they had once shared had yet to return. She didn’t laugh in the corridors and was quieter in classes. There was silence to and fro, and James felt the once comforting stone walls of Hogwarts close in on him, still and sure no longer. They all saw less and less of Dumbledore as the term progressed, and a rumour was that he was rallying a group of wizards and witches to fight Voldemort. James didn’t pay much attention to rumours, but Dumbledore’s absence troubled him; there was no reason to be away if not for an extended purpose. Especially for as long as he had.

Sirius held no stock in it either, told him he was looking for a problem where there wasn’t one. Enough was going on as it was before he went digging for trouble. He wasn’t twelve and stupid anymore, and James Potter was getting too old to think that the world had much good left in it as it was. Death came to all, and to the good and defenceless, it came first.

… 

Hours past and James went down to dinner alone, bringing her up a plate before retiring to his desk. He sighed, head in his hands as he considered the situation. Should he apologize? Make right with her? He wanted to be the man she deserved, but was it right to change his principles for her? Were they gears, rusted in places that needed sprucing up, unable to spin together if they didn't make changes? She was right, though, on more than one count. He was childish, impugning on ignorant when it came to facts he didn’t understand. But was she not temperamental? And judgemental? Was she as imperfect as he, and as unworthy of this treatment as any other? Did he love her as he thought she should be and not as she was? He knew that she was angry about wanting the two of them to spend more time together, but wasn’t it just natural? She had come within inches of danger last night, and his heart clenched to think about what could’ve happened had Marlene not been there to block it. He hated to think that all this might be in vain, that their differences could be irreconcilable.

The door of Lily’s dormitory creaked open, and she appeared, lovely as ever in jimjams and a guilty expression.

“I’m sorry I said the things that I did,” she began, walking towards him. “I don’t think— I don’t think that, well, I shouldn’t have said that you aren’t there for your friends, but I’m worried that it wasn’t coming from a good place.”

James looked down at his hands, feeling the familiar prickling of tears behind his eyes. “I'm sorry too,"

They stood in silence, too far apart and too close together simultaneously. James wanted nothing more than to rush to her, to pull her into his arms and kiss her worries away. But it wasn't possible, not now and not ever. Kissing was a distraction, he thought, passion masked as bareness, but physical nearness couldn't replace honesty.

"I was afraid," he began, trying to ignore the swell of tears in his eyes. "I was afraid that I'm not strong enough to protect you, I was scared that I could fight for my life, and we could still lose. Rescuing Amelia—Evans, it was a reminder that tomorrow is promised to _nobody_, and I could lose my friends if I weren’t there for them. But I could lose them without lifting a finger if I'm not honest with them."

"I'm sorry too," Lily said, "I'm not very good at being honest, either. But I promise to work on it, and be honest with my friends about the things that bother me,"

They collapsed in on one another, kisses and tears exchanged in equal measure, and the sun set with scarlet beams over two lovers tangled in each other's arms.


	12. As Love In Its Decisive Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The season spills into November, and things previously unresolved partially resolve themselves, and all parties involved speak of things previously unsaid.

**_ Oh, the tale’s the same _ **

** _Told before and told again _ **

** _A soul that’s born in cold and rain _ **

** _Knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight _ **

** _At last, can grant a name _ **

** _To be buried in a burning flame_ **

** _As love in its decisive pain, _ **

** _Oh my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight _ **

** _-Sunlight, Hozier _ **

**...**

The season slipped further into autumn as the leaves fell, and the driving winds drew the Hogwarts student body indoors. Halloween came and went, and a spectacularly planned prank, while perfectly functional and embarrassing for all involved, lacked full-hearted participation as James found himself otherwise occupied. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in what Sirius and Lupin and Peter had planned, he was. But the joy of pranking had dissipated, it wasn’t as fun as it once was. A year ago, the opportunity to humiliate Snape would’ve warmed the cockles of James’ heart, to see him humiliated, lesser, somehow in Lily’s eyes would’ve done wonders for him. Snape was a slimy git; there was no getting around that. But he had loved Lily once, loved her and lost her, and James would rather a painful death than to do the same. 

They celebrated Sirius' birthday with all the pomp and circumstance that was expected, and on Friday night planned the biggest party yet in Gryffindor Tower. Under Remus' suggestion, James tried to push back his anger and feelings of insufficiency towards his best mate, treating him to the newest Muggle records and a boatload of sweets from Honeydukes, mail-ordered a month before. He hoped that Sirius felt loved and appreciated, and he tried his best, truly he did. But what could he say? What could he do to make right with him when James was sure he had done nothing wrong? 

James and Lily met with Dumbledore the Monday morning after Sirius' birthday party, and James couldn't quite focus with the splitting headache an evening of Odgen's finest had left him with. Dumbledore had encouraged both of them to continue searching for possible links to Amelia's kidnapping, search for suspects and keep him informed of their plans moving forward. James couldn't quite believe his eyes, tucked in the bottom of a glass-lined shelf...was that a pensieve? It would solve all of their problems, if only they could use their collective memories? Dumbledore caught his eye, and James feigned interest in what Lily was saying about Prefect rounds. 

Halfway through November, in the middle of Charms, Lily got a note from Florence Hornby detailing a meeting scheduled with Dumbledore for later that month. She had James exchanged looks, so far as everybody knew (and the knowledge that an Auror had cursed a student was gossip that took less than three hours to span the castle some weeks before), the business with Moody was over. The patrols of the Aurors were more regulated, groups of two patrolling both the grounds and the castle at all hours of day and night, with Prefects and teachers escorting students to their classes. And hadn’t Crouch said himself that he would deal with Moody? What use was there in bringing everything back up again? 

“What’s that about, then?” James whispered, and Lily shrugged, her eyes on Flitwick while she tucked the note into her cardigan pocket. 

The lesson had never seemed to move so slowly, James thought, twiddling with the end of his quill. What did Dumbledore want with them? Was it about the secret defence group that he was supposedly the leader of? His heart seemed to skip a beat, did Dumbledore want him and Lily to join up? 

Lily looked all the while straight ahead, apparently non-perturbed about the rapid fluttering of James’ heart and focused on the complicated extension spell Flitwick was teaching them. What was she thinking about? Would she want to join up, should it come to it? 

Sirius nudged, and James snapped forward, his attention fixed to what he supposed was a question posed in his direction. 

“Mr. Potter,” Flitwick squeaked, tottering on a pile of books. “I asked you a question,” 

“What about?” 

The class laughed, and James grinned. Flitwick, however, was not amused and creased his eyebrows as he repeated his initial inquiry. 

“Extension charms?” James said, rolling up his shirtsleeves and readying his wand. “Bit tricky, but nothing I can’t handle,”

He turned towards the book bag beside him and said the incantation with ease. Nothing appeared to happen until Marlene sunk her arm to the shoulder in Lily’s book bag and came up grinning. 

“Top marks, Mr. Potter,” Flitwick said, clearly impressed. “Take ten points. Raise your wands, everyone! Remember to annunciate...” 

“Thanks, James,” Lily said at the end of the lesson, packing up her things in a now spacious book bag. 

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” James said, grinning back at her. “Now you won’t be after me for quills with all the room you have,” 

“No trouble, eh Prongs?” Lupin said, ruffling the top of James’ hair. “Old hat, by now,” 

“Course,” James said, grinning at his friends. “When did we learn that one?” 

“Oh years ago,” Sirius said from behind them. “What are you doing tonight, James?” 

“This and that,” James said, his gaze past Sirius’ shoulder. “Why do you ask?” 

“I’ve got something I’d like your opinion on,” Sirius said, his tone turning cold. “but if you’re too busy snogging Evans, I won’t bother you with it,” 

“That’s not fair,” James said, embarrassed for coming to the same conclusion as Sirius had. “I have got a lot of homework, is all. And the Quidditch team to placate, and patrols to coordinate with the Aurors. Plus that essay Slughorn assigned, I’ll be dead before Christmas hols,” 

“You can’t do anything about Quidditch, Dumbledore suspended it,” Lupin said, and James shrugged as if that wasn’t the real problem. “And you have the Prefects to help with patrols, and Lily’s your partner for a reason. You need to learn to delegate,” 

Peter snorted, and Sirius shot him a dirty look, which sent Peter into a fit of sputtering coughs. Sirius rolled his eyes and hefted his bookbag further up his shoulder. “I’ve got something to check on in the Muggle Studies classroom in the off chance that you miss me,” 

“Pads, come on,” 

“See you later, Moony, Wormtail,” 

“Sirius, that isn’t fair,” Lupin said, but Sirius was already halfway down the corridor. 

“What’s with him?” James asked. 

“I don’t know what you were expecting,” Remus said, “he’s jealous, is all,” 

“Jealous?” James exclaimed, loud enough that both Peter and Remus shushed him. “What’s he to be jealous about? I’m the one with all the work to do,” 

“You’re his best mate,” Remus exclaimed, and Peter nodded vigorously. “You’ve got a new girlfriend, and you live in a separate dormitory with her, away from the rest of us. You’re busy with all of those things,” James began to protest, but Remus continued. “None of which is your fault! Okay, rowing with Lily and being put in that dormitory you shack up in was your fault, but the rest of it is circumstantial. He’s jealous because he thinks you prefer Evans over him,” 

“Bullshit,” 

“Is it, though?” Remus said. “Because I don’t think he’s too far off the mark,” 

The bell rang, and they followed Flitwick down to McGonagall’s classroom on the first floor. While he knew Remus was only trying to cheer him up, he was pissed. Beyond pissed. What right did Sirius have to have a go at him? At him! They were best mates, didn’t he know that? His relationship with Lily was different. It was complicated, yes. But he loved her—loved her differently than he loved the Marauders, even Sirius. 

And to James, that wasn’t a bad thing. Sirius was his best mate, but what was he expecting? They weren’t about to stay seventeen forever; sooner or later, one of them was going to move on with their lives. Get a girlfriend, get engaged and married and have a family. They weren’t going to be the most influential people in the other’s lives forever. 

McGonagall was at the door when they entered, receiving them with a look around the corner while they made their way to their seats. James didn’t look up at her greeting, putting his things down with perhaps more force than necessary at the back of the classroom. If Sirius wanted to row, it was his job to make it up to him. He wasn’t about to go grovelling at anyone’s feet for something he hadn’t even done. 

But if McGonagall had noticed his outburst, she said nothing and began teaching as if nothing was amiss. Sirius came just before the final bell rang, sitting beside Frank Longbottom on the other side of the classroom. James tried not to look at him, but really. Longbottom? James would rather sit on his own, good God. He was a decent Keeper, but a lousy conversationalist. Was James suddenly not good enough to sit beside anymore? 

“Knock it off,” Remus whispered as James seethed. “You’ve burnt a hole in the back of Sirius’ head figuratively; I wouldn’t prefer you do so literally,” 

James huffed and sat back in his chair, fiddling with his favourite quill. Lily was sitting with Marlene in front of them, and the long line of her neck was interrupted by her robes, if he looked, _yes_, there it was. The love bite he had left after a particularly lovely snogging session was just visible above her collar, and James couldn't make himself look away. The rest of the class was spent in a haze, both considering Sirius’ anger towards him and the new steps he and Lily were taking. It was all so new, but resting on slightly more solid ground than it had been even a week earlier. They hadn’t slept in the same bed since that afternoon after they found Amelia, but they had been close, and James wanted to get closer. 

The bell rang, startling him out of his thoughts, and James rose, collecting his things when he heard McGonagall calling his name. He walked towards her desk, moving around the rest of his class as they pushed towards the door. 

“Yes, professor?” 

“Come to my desk, would you please?” She said, sitting down. “Miss Evans, you as well.” 

James and Lily caught eyes and waited, but McGonagall was waiting until the rest of the class left for lunch before facing them. 

“It has been a full month since your incarceration in a collective dormitory,” she said, and James smiled. Nobody could take what was a gift from Merlin himself and turn it on its head quite like McGonagall. “I have already heard reports from other Prefects as well as teachers about your behaviour since then, but would like to hear from you,” 

“Professor?” Lily asked. 

“If I wanted to explain everything I say twice, I daresay I would have done so,” McGonagall said, and James rolled his eyes. 

“It went well; I would say,” Lily said tentatively, using the different voice she used for teachers. “We resolved our differences and made peace,” _And other more wonderful things,_ James thought with a grin. 

“I am pleased to hear it,” McGonagall said, “I have heard no reports of public altercations, nor seen the results of unfriendly conduct towards one another in my class. I daresay that the kidnapping of Amelia Bones had a hand in that,” 

“Yes, professor,” 

“You both behaved admirably, considering the circumstances. Had the results not been as positive as they were, I might have thought differently,” 

“I’d expect you would have,” Lily said cordially.

“Nevertheless, I have spoken to Professor Dumbledore, and you are free to return to your respective dormitories tonight,” 

James' heart sank, _was it to be over so soon? “_Tonight?” 

McGonagall exhaled pointedly, and Lily turned to answer. “It’s just, it’s so soon. I thought it would’ve been longer,” 

“You are to pack up your things and return to your respective dormitories between now and this evening,” McGonagall said crisply, standing. “When this is to occur is up to you. Good afternoon,” 

“McGon-,” James began, and McGonagall looked over at him sharply. “I mean, Professor, it’s too soon. We’ve got a mission from Dumbledore, and we’re to work on it together,” 

“Oh?” she said, one hand on the corner of her desk. “And what might that be, pray, tell?” 

“Oh we can’t,” Lily said, “Dumbledore made us swear. It’s to the benefit of the school, an extracurricular,” 

“And you’re to work on this secret extracurricular project together?” 

“Yep,” James said, sneaking a look over at Lily. 

“And what is preventing you from working on this project in the Gryffindor Common Room?” 

“Nothing,” James said, “but some of the details of this plan are well, secret. We wouldn’t want someone to overhear and get the wrong impression,”

“I will speak to Professor Dumbledore,” McGonagall said. “And gain his opinion on this matter,” 

“He knows, Professor,” Lily said a little quickly, and James grinned. “We’ve been making good progress,” 

“Well, I daresay if Professor Dumbledore has given you this impression—until I confirm otherwise, your living arrangements are your decision. I really must get to the Great Hall,” 

“Of course,” Lily said graciously, quickly catching James’ eye with a smile. “We’ll only be a minute,” 

…

Once McGonagall had left, the air shifted into something unfamiliar and somewhat unwelcome. Lily had agreed with him, on the spot, she had agreed with him to McGonagall about his mission from Dumbledore. She had said that they were making good progress, but towards what? James couldn’t help but fantasize about what he wished they were progressing towards. 

“Well, we should—,” Lily began, pulling her book bag over her shoulder and looking at the door out of the corner of his eye. 

“Yeah,” James said, his heart beating a rapid pace. _ Had she just agreed with him? _

“We’ve got a busy afternoon,” Lily said nervously, playing with a piece of her hair that had escaped its plait. “Lunch, in all,” 

“Yeah, I suppose so,” 

“Or, or they might start thinking things are happening that aren’t,” Lily said. 

_ Or wish we were doing, _James thought hopefully. _Should the opportunity present itself. _

They walked side by side down a familiar staircase towards the Great Hall, and James wished he could speak up about what was really on his mind. He wished he could be more honest with her, honest in a way he wasn’t with his parents or the Marauders, honest about the way he felt about her. James wished he could tell her about the things he wanted for them, for their future should it come. He wished he could tell her how precious and beautiful she was in his sight, but was worried she would take it the wrong way. Would she think he was some bird, confessing his feelings to her unwarranted? As much as they balanced one another, he didn’t feel that he could bear another altercation from her, her opinion meant the world to him, and he would do anything to stay in her favour. 

“What you said,” James said quickly, catching her hand at the entrance to the Great Hall. She stopped suddenly and looked up in bewilderment. “Earlier. About not wanting to leave. Did you mean it?” 

“Well,” Lily began, squeezing his hand in her own. “We have been making good progress, that much is true,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” 

They stood about in blissful silence for a minute before Lily cleared her throat, looking up at him in a way that made him grateful for the small bit of privacy. “I need to tell you something,” 

“Oh?”

“Yes, I had a letter from my mum,” 

“I didn’t think letters were coming in,” James said, the mood changing rapidly as if the temperature had dropped. “I haven’t heard from my parents in over a month.”

“It had been opened,” Lily said distastefully, “but that’s not the worst of it. Petunia’s getting married. I should’ve told you earlier,’ 

“Congratulations,” James said quietly. 

“Yeah, well,” Lily said, “My mum included a note too, she said that weddings are a time for sisters and that I should make an effort to be more friendly in Tuney’s special time,” 

“Did you answer it?” James asked hesitantly.

“Almost,” Lily said, pulling a letter from the pocket of her robe. “The last letter I got from home was normal, mum talking about Petunia’s boyfriend and my cousins, and then nothing. I haven’t had a letter from home in three weeks, and then this.”

“Can I read it?”

Lily handed it to him without a word, and James carefully opened the envelope. The letter was short, her mum’s well-intentioned, but Petunia’s fell flat. It felt scripted, like something a stenographer might write, not a note from a sister. Even a distant one, as was the case.

“You’re going to be in the wedding party,” James noted after a minute or so, handing Lily back the letter. “Will you accept?” 

Lily sighed. “I don’t know what I want. She’s my sister, and we were close once. But I don’t know if I’m strong enough to fight with her again, I just don’t have the energy to apologize for being what I am when she’s just ordinary.”

“Tell her you won’t do it then,”

“It’s not that easy,” Lily said. “It’s different with sisters. We promised we’d be bridesmaids at each other’s weddings when we were little, and I always thought I would, when it came down to it.”

“I saw it earlier,” James said, and Lily sighed without looking up. “You do leave your things all over the place, don’t you?”

“All the better to know all my secrets, I suppose,” Lily said.

“Lunch?”

“Starving,” 

… 

The rest of the afternoon passed with little incident, Charms and double Defence rounded out the day. Once dinner had finished, they spent the evening in contemplative silence- candles and firelight tossing shadows onto the walls. James had opened the window behind his desk, and the gentle breeze stirred her thoughts the way nothing else could manage. She pulled out her notes and set about finishing her essay on the ethics of animal to object transfiguration, but the sight of the unfinished letter on her desk bothered her.

James bobbed his knee, the tip of his quill balanced between his teeth. His cardigan was loose; the creamy grey wool was worn loosely about his frame. The breeze mussed his hair, and he absentmindedly twisted and twirled it between his fingers as he sat, deep in thought.

Lily cast a quick charm on her tea to keep it warm, and shifted, leaning on the back of her chair.

“James?”

“Mhmm?”

“Do you think Dumbledore’s right?”

“About what?”

“Amelia,” Lily said, turning her head to meet his eye. “It doesn’t seem to add up. She must’ve seen something; there had some sort of reason to be out that late,”

“I suppose so,” James said. “She is the most pragmatic out of all of us,” James turned back to his work, but hesitated, his posture taut and worrisome. “You don’t think—no, never mind.”

“What’s this?”

“No, it’s just… you don’t reckon that Dumbledore might be hiding something from us, do you?”

“Dumbledore? I hope not,” Lily said, her eyebrows knitted together. “I wouldn’t think he’d be hiding something from us if he knew it would be helpful.”

“He had a strange reaction to seeing my dad’s old cloak,” James remembered, looking past her in thought. “An almost hungry look,”

“To your cloak?” Lily said, turning fully on her chair. “Hasn’t Dumbledore got one of his own?”

“They’re pretty rare these days,” James said. “And Dumbledore said he didn’t need one; he can cast a powerful enough concealment charm. What would he want one for, anyway?”

Lily shrugged and moved to lean against his desk. “Your eyes are red,” she noticed, leaning closer to look. “I noticed earlier but thought it was the light. But you’ve all manner of dark circles. Have you not been sleeping well again?” 

“It’s nothing,” James said, turning to look at his essay before Lily tilted his head until they faced each other. 

“James,” 

“_Evans_,” 

“Have you not been sleeping?” 

“I have,” James said. “Well, sleeping, yes, but not for very long.” 

“Why?” 

James muttered something incomprehensible; his eyes turned towards the ground. 

“Sorry?” 

“I’ve been having nightmares again,” 

“Why didn’t you say something?” Lily asked, worry pulling at her tone. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed the crown of his head. “James, we talked about this. We could’ve gotten you a sleeping draught, or some tea, or—,” 

“It’s not a big deal, don’t fuss,” James said, embarrassed. “I don’t usually sleep through the night,” 

"We promised to be honest with each other," Lily said, and James swallowed. She sat on his heels and met his eyes. "Right?"

"I'm trying to," James said. "I swear I am, but it's hard. I don't want to make it harder for you because you listened to me."

"I'm sorry if you're having nightmares again," Lily said. "But it'll be easier if you talk about them, about what you're thinking and feeling. I know it's hard, but I want to be here for you, James."

"I've been dreaming of that night for over a month," James said, his eyes red. "It's the same every time, and I wake up in cold sweat and look for you, for the Marauders, but they're not there and for a minute...for a minute I think that he got you. That you're gone, and I'm so afraid. So I go to your room and watch you sleep until I'm sure that you're still here, and then I can go back to sleep,"

“Oh, _James—_,” she said, pulling him into her arms. She rubbed his back as cried, hot tears running down his face. She felt his hands wrap around her waist, and she felt tears prickle in her eyes as he wept. How heavy a burden to carry alone, thinking that he was the last one alive?

"Come with me," Lily said once his breathing slowed, and his sobs quieted. "I'm going to sleep with you, would that help?

“Sleep in the same bed?" James said, facing her. "In_ my _bed?”

“Do you have an objection?” 

“God, no,” James said, wiping his eyes on his handkerchief. His heart was racing, were they going to— were they— 

“I’ll go to the loo first, if it’s all the same to you,” Lily said, apparently unperturbed by the recent turn of events. She waved her wand, and her reading glasses zoomed into her hand. “See you soon,” 

“Mhmm,” James said, watching as the door to the loo clicked quietly shut behind her. 

… 

By the time Lily had finished in the loo, James was already tucked in and very squarely on one half of his bed. He had spent an inordinate amount of time choosing with pyjamas to wear, how to fix his hair, what to do about his bedroom. It looked so juvenile, James thought, like a child’s bedroom, not the room of a man. He straightened his sheets and made his bed the Muggle way, lighting candles as he went. Once Lily had finished in the loo, he took a quick shower to clear the redness from his face and the embarrassment from his expression. He cleaned his teeth, flushing his mouth with liberal amounts of mouthwash. Looking at his hair in the mirror, he teased it this way and that, but no matter what he did, it went all over. He sighed, and with a groan, emptied a capful of Sleekeazy’s into his palm and ran it through his hair. 

Lily was already in his bed when he came out, hair neatly plaited and reading a book he had left on his nightstand. 

“Gulliver’s travels, eh?” He said, trying not to be nervous as he pulled off his dressing gown and hung it over the bedpost. 

“Just a bit of light reading,” Lily said, pulling off her reading glasses. She looked so lovely, her eyes bright and cheerful, face slightly pink. Her slippers were tucked under her the same side of the bed she had slept on last time, a lace-lined dressing-gown of her own slung around the bedpost opposite. It was so domestic but so wonderful at the same time. They had only slept in the same bed once, and they had already chosen sides of the bed. 

“It’s a book my dad lent me,” James said, closing it and putting it on the nightside table. “A Muggle book,” he added. 

“Oh?” She said. 

“Yeah,” he said, “it was my Granddads, Gulliver’s Travels. I love adventure stories,” 

“I didn’t know you read Muggle books,” 

“I do, I like them quite a bit,” 

“Oh,” 

They sat in silence for a minute. James felt every inch of the space between them, subconscious about the way he spoke, about what he hadn’t said. He wished he dared to reach for her, pull her close. But would she turn him away? Was it too soon? He wanted more than anything that she felt the same about him as he did about her, but could he—should he? 

Lily cleared her throat, putting her book on the side table. Her face held an expression he didn’t recognize, one he hadn’t seen on her before. She looked almost apprehensive, and startled, James turned to look, his heart beating so fast she must be able to hear it. “I’m nervous,” he said with a half-laugh, running a hand through his hair. 

“Oh thank God,” Lily said, letting out a long breath, sinking against the pillows. “I thought I was the only one,” 

“I just don’t know what you expect,” James said quietly. “I don’t want to let you down,” 

“We didn’t talk about it, did we? It just sort of—happened,” 

“I’m not very good—,” James began, looking down in a feeling close to shame. “About talking— to anyone—about my feelings. I feel like such a prat, I’ve never talked to a bird about what I felt,” 

‘Why not?” 

“I’m ashamed,” James said, “aren’t blokes supposed to be the shoulder to cry on? It’s sissy the other way ‘round,” 

“I don’t think it’s sissy to talk about your feelings,” Lily said quietly. “But I’m not very good at it either. Petunia and I used to tell each other everything, but she’s changed, and we don’t talk like that anymore. We talk in our dormitory, personal stuff, but it’s all boys and who fancies who and easy stuff. I love them, I do. But they have their own lives; I don’t want to bother them,” 

They sat in silence for a minute, digesting what had been said. James felt like he was bare, easy pickings. He didn’t like talking about his private life; it didn’t come naturally to him. His parents spoke to each other, but his father had never told James what he was feeling. What life was like to be him. He wasn’t sure he’d be any good at it. 

“I feel like I’ve used you,” Lily began quietly, and James swallowed uncomfortably. “Used you to my advantage without taking your feelings on the matter into consideration. I know this started on unsteady ground, and I’m sorry about that.” 

“You didn’t —,” 

“No, I did. And you know it too, but you cared too much to let it stop, and I _wanted_ it. I’ve fancied you for so long, James. I didn’t want to be the reason it didn’t work; I couldn’t bear it if it were my fault. And I meant it, truly I did. It wasn’t a ruse, although you might’ve thought it was one. My friends have heard years of my side of the story and were wary of accepting you as you are, not the way I pretended you were. And here we are! In bed together, after all that's happened." 

“I didn’t mean to pressure you," James said, looking down at his lap. "I thought you wanted it. I didn’t mean to tell you I was having nightmares; it sort of slipped out. I wish it hadn’t,” 

“Why?”

“Because you’re different from the other birds I’ve dated,” James said. “You’re _Lily __Evans, _I’ve fancied you for years, and like you said, here we are in bed, and we might as well be on different planets.”

“Then let’s do it,” Lily said suddenly, and James’ eyebrows shot up his forehead. “No, no—not _that. Talking_, let’s try talking for once.” 

“Okay,” James said, trying to recover his heart rate.

“Okay,” Lily said, pulling the sheets up to sit cross-legged across from him. “Here it goes, I guess. I’m jealous that my sister found love because I don’t think that she deserves it. I know it makes me awful, but now she’s getting married, and I have to pretend to be happy for her, but the sister I loved is gone and is never coming back. I hate that she’s never coming back,” 

“God, Lily, I’m so sorry,” 

“No, don’t be sorry,” Lily said, wiping a tear with her hand. “It’s me; it’s my fault. I’m not good at trusting people. Ever since my dad died, alive one day, gone the next. But before that too, I didn’t have anyone reliable to tell my secrets to until Hogwarts, Petunia would tell them to anybody,” 

“Oh Lils,” he said, reaching for her blindly. 

“No, don’t pity me,” Lily said, tucking her arms into his chest. “I need you to understand why I am the way that I am,” 

James turned about on the bed to face her. “I’m here, I’ll keep your secrets. Tell me whatever you’d like.” And she did. 

…

They talked for hours, long after the candles in his bedroom had sputtered into nothing and panels of moonlight fell across the floorboards. Lily spoke about her family, how much losing her dad affected her. He talked about the expectations of his parents, how they expected him to do something great with his life, something extraordinary. James told her that he was afraid of his parents dying, especially now that they weren’t answering the post. She told him about how much he had impressed her when Moody kidnapped Amelia, how she admired his bravery and sure-headed leadership. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, things perhaps more settled than they were before, their hands clasped tightly together under the coverlet. It wasn’t as uncomfortable silence as it had been an hour previously, but they lay in bed together, not touching, each conscious of the gap between the two of them. It seemed insurmountable; their company felt almost expectant, nearly planned. Lily never did say what she was expecting, James thought. Did she want to, did she expect to— with him? Right now? Should he say something? Or would that ruin it? In his experience in this particular department, the less talking there was between two people, the more natural things were. But Lily wasn’t like the other bird he had been with, she should have romance and flowers and candles, in consideration of course that this is what she wanted. The other times they had come close, but here they were in the same bed, intentionally and purposefully. She wouldn’t have agreed if this wasn’t what she wanted, right? No, she wasn’t someone to have her arm twisted, but she would say, wouldn’t she? If this was something she didn’t want? They lay side by side, but they didn’t touch, didn’t reach for the other. He stared at the ceiling and considered his options. He could say something, but that might have the opposite reaction than what he wanted. If he said something, he could pop the bubble they had established when they were talking. He hated how uncomfortable with this he was, Hadn’t he slept with other people? And in more than one context, of course, one of which was the night the four of them crammed into the only bed in the Shrieking Shack after the full moon in fourth year. How was this any different? But it was, it was _Evans,_ and she had chosen to be here, in bed with him. His mind churned with the alternative, which was, of course, to say nothing. Let things progress as they might, let the petals fall where they may. But he couldn’t do that to her, she deserved all that and more, and they were just beginning to be honest with one another. 

He turned over slowly, watching her face to gauge a reaction. She didn’t move, but when his hand searched for hers in the dark, she held it tightly between them. 

“What you said earlier,” Lily said quietly. “Oh, a long time ago. It isn’t true.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Love isn’t bound for catastrophe,” she said, tracing a hand over his face with a smile on her lips. “Love is never wasted, even if you think that it was at the time,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” 

James smiled in the darkness, and when Lily shifted into his arms, he held her with love in his heart as they drifted off to sleep.

…

The morning after the night before came early; the sun shone brighter than it did in her room, and the breeze rattled the window frame. Her eyelids flickered open, and she burrowed herself further into James’ arms. The bed was warm, and James was still asleep, his hair curling around his ears and forehead, the beginning of whiskers settling in on his jaw. His eyes were still closed, and the deep rumbling of his breath suggested he was still asleep. It was still early, the dawn was close at hand, but classes wouldn’t begin for hours. They had time, so much time it was as if she could swim in it, let it spill through her fingers like sunlight. The hours and days of their lives stretched endlessly towards eventuality. Still, it was a glimmer on the horizon—a flash of silver, something far off and unrecognizable, something not worth thinking about or remembering.

James’ arm rose in his sleep, pulling the sheets and her closer into his side. His legs tangled with her own, and she was entirely, incandescently happy. Happy enough to burrow into his broad chest and fall fast asleep.

...

James awoke an hour later to the sound of his alarm. He was startled, it was so late. He hadn’t slept through the night in weeks, and a full night’s sleep suited him. Lily was there, he thought happily. She had slept in his bed and had stayed all night. 

Their conversation the night before seemed so far off, imaginary. As if he was reading about it instead of experiencing it for himself. The last time they had slept together—well, slept in the same bed at the very least, their morning lacked the privacy he had wanted for her. Their friends surrounded them, and he didn’t get the chance to see her the way he had wanted to. She would have messy hair, all falling out of her braids, and that old nightgown of hers would slide up deliciously when she raised her arms to yawn, exposing inches of skin unplotted and waiting to be loved upon. She would forget that in the light, the white cotton would become nearly transparent, and the light from the windows would award him an image he wouldn’t soon forget. She would grin, her eyes sleepy and half-closed and lean forward to kiss him, reach for him, run her fingers through his hair. Left to his own devices, he slept more often than not in just his pants, and when he sat up, she would see for herself what he had hoped she had thought of, dreamt of, wished for. They would be alone, so blessedly alone. No teachers to impose a curfew, no dormitory mates to walk in, nobody in the world but them. The last people in the world, so madly in love, the sun slowed in its rising, the world in its spinning, the stars in their shining. He would stand up, eyes caught on her own and lift her, spinning her around their sunlit bedroom while the light of his love shone in her eyes. He’d give anything to love her like that. God, he’d give his life for a love like that.

She was so small, and all he could see was the crown of her head, tucked into the curve of his neck. Her hair was so bright, the little freckles of her forehead glimmered in the light. She was lying nearly on top of him, both of her legs between his own, almost entirely the whole length of her tucked into the empty places of his own body. Her toes wiggled, and her eyebrows creased in some sudden emotion. She pulled her arms out from between them and would them about his shoulders, the movement exposing her face to him. She was smiling in her sleep, and the little feathers of her eyelashes fluttered as she dreamed. He didn’t think he loved anyone more than he loved her at that moment. 

Her eyes flickered open, and he kissed her neck as she smiled in near consciousness.

“Good morning, James,” 

“Good morning, lovely Lily,” 

“No nightmares?” 

“None,” James said with a smile, kissing her forehead. “Thank you,” 

Lily made a happy little noise in the base of her throat and tucked herself back into his arms, her head sliding against the crook of his neck. 

“What you said earlier,” James said, looking down to meet her eyes. “About expectations—,” James said, waiting until her eyes opened fully to continue. “I had hoped-,” 

“Yes?” she breathed, her lips beneath the curl of his ear, the nape of his neck. 

“I had hoped that it would be something like this,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been a relief to me, a comfortable universe to sink into and let the world drift for a minute. James comes naturally to me, his aspirations and personality have always been second nature while writing. But it took me a minute to realize that while James was raised by caring, compassionate people, toxic masculinity would most likely have, inadvertently, sunk into James’ psyche. And I hate it. But it’s easy to put characters up on a pedestal, especially ones like James and Lily who were long dead in most of the canon. While James is compassionate, brave and trustworthy, he was also arrogant and had a strain of toxic masculinity and self-importance running in his bones. It makes him more human to remember that these are the late 70s, coming from parents who did the best that they could with the lessons of parenthood that came from a time gone by. They’re also seventeen, and love is hard. James still believes that he’s invincible, and will for the rest of his life.  
This chapter marks act two of this piece, with one more act to come. The story will come to a close a the end of the year, 1977. How many more chapters that will be, I couldn’t tell you, but I’m so glad you came along for the ride :)  
Much love,   
Violet Sky 


	13. Take Her Heart Away

The morning dawned quickly, and by the time they had sorted out clothes for the day, it was near time to go down for breakfast. James went into the loo to shave, and Lily slipped in after him with a hairbrush in her hands.

He tried not to think about how much of her he had seen when they were getting out of bed, most likely more than she had intended. She might not have meant to, but hadn’t she known it could happen? They were kissing, touching, and she was wearing a nightgown; it was more than he could have expected. His breath had caught, but she didn’t seem to notice. James turned towards the mirror, his eye catching her busying herself at the vanity.

She pulled out a pink bottle and a comb and began brushing her hair. James had loved her hair from the moment he met her; it was so_ red_ and bright and golden, thick and wavy, and he had spent longer than he'd admit to watching that hair from afar. She fiddled with it, curling pieces between her fingers as she brushed it, and he nearly dropped his shaving brush as he applied shaving foam, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

They got ready for the day in silence, and James shaved wondering if she liked him like this, how manly it was, shaving in front of her. Lily pulled out a bottle of perfume, and she tried not to watch him in the reflection, his shoulders moving as he shaved, the strong arch of his spine, the way he smiled at her in the reflection... 

Never before had he admired the steps and procedures for birds to get ready in the morning. He had never cared much previously or indeed given it more than a passing thought, but it was an art, wasn’t it? The way that certain powders went to certain places, the application of mascara and rouge, just enough to be visible but not too much to be overpowering. It was so intricate, and the way her eyebrows scrunched together while she focused… 

He sighed, rinsing his razor in the sink. 

Lily was focused, not necessarily on the task at hand, but on the vision just over her shoulder. God, he was a piece, she thought as she sprayed perfume on her hairbrush. His back was strong and thickly muscled, moving about as he shaved. His hair was tousled and messy, messier from her hands, she thought with a secret smile. Messy from the ten-minute snogging session they had so recently pulled themselves from. She was so focused on her covert admiration that she jumped when he appeared behind her. 

“May I?” 

“Sorry?” 

“Can I—can I brush your hair?” 

Lily gave him an odd look, but passed him the comb nonetheless, a roll of pleasure running through her like water. “If you’d like, it’s a mess."

“I don’t mind,” James said a little quickly, sectioning her hair carefully. “I like your hair,” 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s so bright in the sunlight,” James said, pulling it through with care. “Like sunflowers,” 

She smiled as he went to work, eyebrows drawn as he concentrated on his task. Once she explained what her detangler was, he sprayed each piece carefully before brushing it through. Lily curled her toes under her vanity stool, her hands framing her face as she watched him at work. He brushed her hair with care in every stroke, from root to tip, and finally brushed it through. 

“It's just as well," James said, smiling at her through the mirror. "Fixing your hair that is, after all that my hands have done to you,”

“I liked it,” Lily said quietly, “your hands in my hair. I liked it a lot,”

James grinned and leaned down over her shoulder, nuzzling her neck with his lips. His touch sent fireworks racing down her body. “You’ve no idea what these hands can do,”

Lily shivered and smiled widely, her skin erupting in gooseflesh as he nuzzled her neck, his hands gently pulling the hair from her shoulders. James kissed the spot just behind her ear, and she pushed against him almost instinctively. She felt him grinning against her neck, and when he turned, it was as if he was a different person, someone with love in every touch, devotion in the way he spoke with her. His hands spanned her waist, and he kissed her neck before standing.

“May I?”

Lily nodded, not quite sure what she had agreed to.

He pulled her hair behind her and separated it carefully, twisting his hand to pull it into a twist at the base of her neck, his fingers smooth and euphoric against her scalp. He twisted it against itself and secured the lot with pins from a bin on her vanity. 

“There,” he said, holding up a mirror so she could see his work. “Neat and tidy,” 

It was more than that, she thought with a smile. It was beautiful, a complicated little twist that looked so graceful and elegant that she turned her head back and forth to see the full effect. 

“Thank you,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “I didn’t know you could fix hair,” 

“I’ve been fixing Sirius’ for years,” he said, brushing his nose with the tip of his finger. He smiled deviously and pulled out her chair for her as she stood. “Don’t go spilling my secrets, Lily Evans,” 

“I’ll be silent as the grave,” Lily said, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss him. “Thank you,” 

“I’d do your hair for the rest of your life if you’d let me,” James said without thinking, only catching himself at the last minute. _Damn it; he_ thought, _so much for being suave_. “I mean—,” 

“I would love that,” she said, and he grinned. 

….

By the time James and Lily found themselves on benches in the Great Hall, Sirius had been seething for hours. A thick letter had arrived for him in the morning post, one of the few to make it through the rigorous screening process the Ministry of Magic was rumoured to be involved in. The lack of post itself wasn’t exceptional news, Sirius had no one to write to at home one way or another. And now that James was otherwise occupied, he had yet to answer Mr. Potter’s letter from a month ago. 

He had finished his homework for the next two weeks quickly and correctly, feeling the loss of James' witty banter as he wrote. Sirius was used to his steady presence, the irritating way he tapped his quill against the parchment when he thought. Without him, without Quidditch and pranking Snape, Sirius's life was filled with empty hours. He wondered in his loneliest moments if James even missed him, up in the Head's dormitory with Evans. The others were gone too, otherwise occupied.

Remus was still recovering in the Hospital Wing from the full moon, and Peter was swamped with Muggle Studies homework Sirius couldn’t be bothered helping him with. James and Lily looked so happy it made him nearly sick with jealousy, were they not best mates? Friends and Marauders until the end? Since when was some bird more important than their friendship? 

Sirius stabbed his porridge with the tip of his spoon; the letter tucked into the pocket of his jacket. 

A sudden thought bothered him enough that he clenched his spoon tighter. What if James didn’t make up before the Christmas hols? In was nearing the third week of November. He wasn’t about to invite himself to the Potter's uninvited, but the thought of his last Christmas at Hogwarts spent alone was a miserable one. If only James would apologize, everything could go back to normal. 

“What’s that, mate?” James said, sliding into the bench across from him. “Did you get a letter?” 

Sirius looked up with a blank expression. “None of your damn business,” 

“Pardon me for asking,” James responded icily. 

“Come on, boys, make nice,” piped in Marlene from beside Lily. 

“No chance of that,” Sirius said, taking one last sip of coffee before standing. “James has much more important matters at hand than my post,” 

Before James could respond, Sirius left without a word, his footsteps heavy against the flagstones.

“What was that about?” Alice asked, watching his retreating form. “It’s not like him,” 

“He’s a prat,” James spat, and Lily laid a hand on his arm. “Who cares what he has to say?” 

“Well, I do for a start,” Lily said abruptly, and James scoffed. “And so do you, this is going to eat your friendship alive if you don’t make peace,” 

“He’s someone in need of a good listener; I’d say,” Mary said, taking a sip of tea. “I’d volunteer myself, but something tells me he’d see it as a charity,” 

“It’s his pride from telling me what’s eating him,” James said. “If he’d only apologize, everything would be fine. I’ve done nothing wrong,” 

Peter offered a sideways glance, and James sighed. “He’s just sulking, he’ll get over it, and we’ll move on. Just as we always have before,” 

“You should still talk to him,” Alice urged. 

“If he cared about our friendship, he’d apologize. This row is his fault. I have more important things to deal with,” 

The lot of them rose to leave as the bell for the first-period rung. Marlene and Alice followed the rest exiting the Great Hall, but Lily stopped James with a stern glance. 

“What’s more important than Sirius to you, huh?” Lily asked, and he sat down with a sigh. 

“If he cared—,” 

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” she said, the simplicity of that morning gone. James hated that it was gone. “I don’t know what you said to him when McGonagall caught us in the Room of Requirement, but it’s eating you alive!”

“He crossed a line, Lily,” James said firmly. “It’s all so new, you and I, and—and Sirius isn’t used to it. We’re best mates, and I thought that what we had was enough for him, but he’s being unreasonable,” 

“He lied for you! For all of us! To keep us out of detention, and by keeping him at arm’s length, you're drawing out the problem. ” Lily sighed and looked up at him in a way that made it difficult to look away. “Don’t burn your bridges. Because once you do, and even if you didn’t intend to, there’s no going back,” 

…

An hour later, a double Potions lesson began with increased tension. James and Sirius sat on opposite sides of their table, both decidedly facing the other direction as Slughorn set their assignment. An exhausted Remus cautiously set up his burner next to Sirius, unperturbed of Sirius’ opinion to their proximity. Remus looked over his shoulder at where Lily, Marlene and Alice were, unhappy with the sullen look James fixed on his cauldron. Remus hadn’t heard the full extent of their fight outside of the Room of Requirement but had surmised its point of disconnect. Sirius had lied for them, that much was true. But so far as he knew, Sirius had done it for himself just as much as he had done it for anybody else. To lie baldly to a teacher was a skill only Sirius (and sometimes James) had the gall to pull off. But it wasn’t the lying that angered Sirius; it was something more. Something deeper, it had to be more than that. James didn’t care if a back road had to be taken to achieve a goal, but only to the extent that it didn’t hurt anybody. But Sirius was different, Sirius didn't care who he hurt so long as he acted in what he believed to be his friends' best interest. And that list was growing smaller by the day. Lupin turned to face Sirius, his face drawn and unresponsive; he'd be kidding himself if Evans made the cut.

Sirius was jealous. 

Slughorn set them to work on a potion he had spoken about for months, something a bit unorthodox he said with a wheezy chortle, but nothing beyond the expectations of the N.E.W.T. class. The Polyjuce potion. 

Truth be told, he and the Marauders had attempted (and viscously failed) making this particular potion in third year to escape detention. None of them were particularly gifted potioneers if the results were anything to go by, but the particulars of how to brew it were familiar. He pulled out his textbook and began. But Remus' attention was divided, he spent the majority of the lesson with his gaze torn between Sirius and James sitting on opposite ends of their table. They were supposed to be preparing the fluxweed, but while James looked busy, Sirius had done little more than stared holes into Lily's head. Remus sighed loudly, but neither seemed to notice. 

“Out with it,” Remus said baldly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sirius said, twiddling his knife between his fingers. 

“No?” Remus said. “Because I do. You lied for us, a month ago, when we rescued Amelia and escaped the Room of Requirement. You lied to McGonagall and the rest of them and expected praise, and when you didn’t receive any, you slunk into a mood you’ve yet to surface from. Is that fair?” 

“Mind your own business, Lupin,” Sirius said shortly, leaving the table for the potions cupboard. 

Remus rolled his eyes as Sirius left, and when James did the same, Remus cleared his throat. 

“What?” James said. 

“You’re not any better!” Remus exclaimed. “Your best mate is feeling abandoned, and you’ve done nothing to fix it. You’re just as guilty as he is,” 

“Oh, I am, am I?” 

“Yep,” 

“See matters from my side, for a minute, will you? I’ve been in love with Lily for three years. By a twist of fate, she and I moved in together to a dormitory, _alone_—,” 

“So, because you two shacked up together, it’s okay to abandon him?” 

“That’s not—,” 

“Isn’t it?” Remus said. “You might like Lily, and you might even love her, but you loved Sirius first. And I think you’d regret it forever if you gained her but lost him,”

“I’m not losing anybody,” James retorted, stirring his potion carefully. 

“Best not do so by accident then,” Remus said dryly. 

...

It was nearing two o’clock in the afternoon by the time Lily walked down the corridor with Mary and Marlene. They were quite happily recounting their History of Magic lesson of the day (or to be more specific, the uncommon occurrence of an unusually short History of Magic lesson, due in part—if not in full—by the sudden appearance of the resident Poltergeist and a smash of a cabinet on Professor Binns’ desk). While Binns himself was relatively unperturbed by the unexpected turn of events, the ensuing dust cloud and colossal mess of splintered wood ended their class earlier than expected.

They turned the corner—talking all the while about the mountain of homework to accomplish before the weeks’ end—and took one of the shortcuts James had shown them in the weeks prior almost automatically, emerging not a minute later on the seventh floor. They didn’t pass by the gargoyle corridor, but it strayed into Lily’s thoughts as they walked towards Muggle Studies. The mission Dumbledore had given James bothered her, this business with Snape and her sister had made her somewhat less trusting of the establishment over the years. It seemed not altogether outside the realm of possibility that Dumbledore was assigning James a task that was dangerous, uncommonly so. He may be Head Boy at Dumbledore’s recommendation, but wasn’t it the teachers’ responsibility and that of the Ministry of Magic to do the sleuthing? James was uncommonly loyal, trusting to the point of fault, and she loved him for it. But not all those he trusted were worthy of it, and that worried her. 

Amelia had recovered, but her memory of her kidnapping remained foggy. She had no clear recollection of her attacker, not quite able to match the voice nor the appearance of her kidnapper to Moody, or to anybody else for that matter. The lacerations about her wrists and neck had long since faded, and the only remaining symptom of all that unpleasantness was a reoccurring habit to look around for enemies seen or unseen. Her wand was held tightly in her hand when they walked about the castle, close at hand when stationary. Lily and the others said nothing, if anyone was warranted a healthy paranoia of kidnapping, it would be Amelia. 

Alice didn’t seem to notice Lily’s train of thought, however, and her eyes strayed to the other end of the classroom where Frank Longbottom sat chatting with his dormitory mates. 

Lily didn’t think that Frank was anything particularly lovely to look at, he was tall and rather chiselled compared to where he was even a year ago, but he was sweet and quiet where James was clever and quick. His hair was thick, blonde and curling just so about his ears. His eyes were clear and hazel, and his build tall but not stocky. She knew that Alice was drawn to him in a way she hadn’t to the other boys she had fancied. It hadn’t escaped her notice that Alice was more likely to be found in the library when Frank was between classes, but it was sweet. Lily could never claim any sort of deferential relationship with her former dormitory mate, but she loved Alice too much to lose herself over some boy. 

_Hadn’t her friends loved her too much when she fancied James from afar? _

That was different, she thought dismissively, sitting down and tossing her hair over her shoulder. James instigated it, and she had just slipped into his love, gave in. She would never forget herself for a boy, even a boy like James Potter. 

From beside her, Alice sighed as Frank laughed, and sat some rows in front of them. He was cute, but cute in a way that distinguished him from friend to boyfriend material. 

Professor Vestra swept into the classroom and tapped her wand on the chart suspended from the ceiling. They spent the next hour pouring over the star charts they were supposed to hand in at the end of the week, leaving little time for gazing longingly at their classmates, even if they wanted to. 

N.E.W.T. lessons were hard to get used to; they were unlike their O.W.L.S. in a way she couldn’t have predicted. While their lessons had increased in length (three of them were now doubles twice a week) but also in course load. Transfiguration and Charms were the usual suspects, but Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures, as well as Herbology had also increased in their tenacity. She missed the early years of their Hogwarts school days when an afternoon might be spent in front of the loch or the Quidditch pitch with no feelings of anxiety or lost time. But with age had also come new responsibilities; it had brought her Headship, and it had brought her to James. She wasn't in much of a position to complain.

They had only seven months until graduation, with their futures hanging hazy and indeterminate in the balance.

Their fifth year had brought career discussions with their Heads of House, and Lily’s conversation with McGonagall was colourful; her half-developed hopes and dreams had been juxtaposed with doses of gently delivered reality. She had good grades, especially in Charms and Potions, and if she put in the extra effort before the exams at the end of the year, McGonagall had said, her future could be anything she wanted it to be. The pamphlets for Healing and banking didn’t particularly interest her, nor did the positions of potion master or herbologist. As a child, she had considered teaching, but now she wasn’t sure. 

“You don’t have to make the decision now,” McGonagall had said. “I’d recommend you take the basics, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions and Defence, your grades for Muggle Studies are strong, as are those for Herbology. Leave your options open for when the decision has to be made, lest it is made for you,” 

She had been right, of course. That rosy future she had imagined for herself at fifteen was never meant to be.

It was unlikely that full classes would resume at Hogwarts next year if the castle were to open at all. The war was coming closer, and those attacks Dumbledore had told them about in Hogsmeade were coming closer day by day. The Death Eaters and You Know Who was a threat not easily countered with a robust knowledge of Herbology, nor parried with any spell she had been taught in Defence. The duelling club she had been a part of in her younger years had depended on civility on both sides and was taught as a sport, not as a tool by which to induce harm. It struck her as particularly odd, though she wasn’t sure why, that although she had received a robust magical education, she had few to no tools to equip her for the war caused by magic. Maybe that’s why Dumbledore was sending James on this mission to sleuth out Amelia’s attack, to prepare them for a war that was forever inching nearer. Towards some masked killer waiting in the dark. 

In all Lily's years rooming at Hogwarts, she had never cohabitated with a male that wasn’t related to her. Her relationships in her younger years hadn’t been particularly fulfilling, and the snogs shared in abandoned classrooms and behind tapestries had taught her little to nothing about the daily goings-on of the male species. While girls were messy and uncoordinated in their ways, it was a predictable thought pattern. She knew what was behind each nuanced step, the mechanics behind her friends’ mode of thought and which weeks to avoid confrontation. Boys were different and unpredictable and slow to understand what she thought was clear as mud. This continued proximity was intoxicating, the feeling of him all wrapped around her as they slept was an intimacy she had never shared with another person, it was safety and comfort in clean aftershave and linen pyjama sets. His Puddlemore sheet set was endearing, as was his habit of leaving half-finished teacups wherever he went. His face was scratchy and soft when it brushed up against hers in bed, but his nighttime stirrings left her flustered and uncomfortable. She was no stranger to male physiology, nor the mechanics of it all, but it was _James_, not some randy bloke on the street. It wasn’t his fault, but did he want her like that? Did he dream of her, of them together?

She knew that these bodily escapades were beyond his control, but she scooted farther away from his hips when they slept out of sheer embarrassment.

Other than nighttime kisses and more than one extended snogging session, they hadn’t gone farther than perhaps coping a feel where permitted. It wasn’t as if Lily was holding back from more, per se, and he wasn’t pushing her, but the pressure to deepen their relationship hovered over her. She wished she knew what he was thinking, did he think she was fit, a good snog? Was that it? James had told her that first night in the Gryffindor Common Room that he loved her, but she had yet to do the same. It wasn’t that she _didn’t_ love him, it was the phrase itself— so stocky and blunt, and again so needed to solidify one’s feelings towards another verbally. Lily loved him, she supposed, for the way that he held her, the feeling of his eyelashes against her cheekbones while they kissed, the taste of peppermint on his lips. She loved his tenacity, his loyalty, his drive towards the unknown. She loved the way his eyes looked for none other than her own, for the firm, calloused hand of his in her own, she loved the way he lived each moment to its fullest— how he pushed for others to reach their potential. She loved his smile, the quirky relationship he had with his favourite Quidditch team, the somewhat obsessive habit of correcting what he felt could improve. She loved how he was with his friends, with her friends, how he treated the younger students in the corridors. 

God, maybe she did love him. 

Maybe she had loved him all along. 

…

The rest of the day past in stormy silence; James’ chagrin at Sirius’ standoffishness was apparent, both by word and deed. Both ignored the other in classes, despite interventions from Peter and Remus, and at meals, Sirius had taken to eating on the far end of the table beside Mary rather than his usual place. Instead of being sullen, Sirius had resorted to an aloof air that suited him perfectly and left early. 

James pushed the bench back with a dull scratching noise and took off in the other direction. Lily picked at her pudding, it was a rather tempting slice of treacle tart, but it tasted like dust in her mouth. She was so frustrated that she could hardly put it into words. Sirius was being unreasonable, but so was James. Wasn’t their friendship worth more than a fight or two? Were they not like brothers, didn’t they care for one another above the rest? Did they not forgive, forget and move on, just like they always had before? How was this time any different, what had changed? 

_James chose you over Sirius,_ a cynical part of Lily’s psyche reminded her. _He shouldn’t have, and Sirius noticed. Sirius always notices, and you did nothing to stop it. If they don’t makeup, it’ll all be on you. _

Lily stood up, her eyes burning and walked with purpose towards the doorway. 

She didn’t know where he could be; he had more than one hiding spot in the castle. His typical haunts were familiar to her, and she took the staircase with intentions of seeking him out and demanding reconciliation. If not for their friendship, then certainly for his own good. 

The Owlery was unoccupied, as was the Astronomy tower. She took points off of a couple tucked into the corner of the fifth-floor landing and rolled her eyes as they hastily redressed and took off down the corridor. She checked the kitchens, the Gryffindor Common Room, the entrance to the Room of Requirement. Exhausted, she slipped like a raindrop down the wall and considered her options. 

She didn’t have the map; otherwise, it would be simple to locate him. She didn’t particularly want to ask after it either, this was an errand she had to do alone, and she didn’t need the other Marauders getting involved. A quiet part of her that didn’t want to confess her shortfallings, or admit that she couldn’t find him either. Was it not her job to know the castle inside and out? As head of the school, to know all the secret nooks and crannies? But didn’t he know them better than anyone? 

As if by lightning, an idea struck her, and she pulled herself up, taking down the corridor with a firmer destination than that of what she had previously. 

The front door of the castle was mercifully unlocked and relatively unguarded, the Aurors who stood watch recognized her badge and let her out with nothing more than a curious sideways glance. The night was clear, a gently waning moon shining brightly, and the walk down to the Quidditch pitch was familiar and well packed after so many years. The loss of Quidditch was felt acutely by many inside the castle, and its absence bothered James more perhaps than the others. She could admit freely that the sight of him on a broom had fuelled many of her latest daydreams. He moved so efficiently, the muscles in his arms shifting as he caught the Quaffle, the cheers of the crowd for the popular captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, handsome and talented both. She knew he missed flying, and his pent up energy had lately found other, more wonderful outlets.

There was a light on in one of the changing rooms, and she pulled her cardigan in tighter as she braced the wind en route of the doorway. After a moment of apprehension, she pushed the door open and smiled as she observed its singular occupant. Thick plumes of smoke danced on the ceiling, and a near-empty bottle of Firewhiskey attended his side, and when she approached, Sirius didn’t lookup. 

“I was looking everywhere for you,” she said carefully, pushing aside a Keepers helmet and sitting down on the bench opposite. The changing room looked hastily vacated, which of course, it had been. Bits of equipment littered the hooks, empty containers of broom polish and twigs were underfoot. Sirius’ face was weary, and the cigarette on his lips quivered as he considered the space between his feet. 

“I came here to be alone,” Sirius said after a time, tapping out the ashes. 

“I noticed,” said Lily. 

There was a loaded silence, and Lily picked at the hem of her jumper while he stared at the floorboards between his feet. 

“Did James send you?” Sirius asked, his face hard when his eyes met hers. “Is that why you’ve come?” 

“I don’t know where he is,” Lily said, “but that’s not—,” 

“Isn’t it?” Sirius said shortly. 

“No,” Lily said firmly. “This has nothing to do with James. But—Sirius, I know you’re hurting. Remus told me about Regulus, and I imagine that fighting with James has brought up some bad memories.” 

Sirius didn’t respond, but the muscles in his jaw tightened as she spoke, and his eyes fixed steadily on the floorboards. She assumed he was still listening, so she continued. “And I’m sorry, Sirius I’m so sorry for that. You did something gallant, something brave, and you were punished for it. It isn’t —,” 

“You don’t understand anything, do you?” Sirius said suddenly, and she looked up with wide eyes. “Is this a pity party? Did I miss the invitation?” 

“No, of course not,” Lily began, her eyes wide with apprehension. 

“No, I think you do,” Sirius said. “You don’t give a shit about Regulus, and quite frankly, I don’t think you give a shit about James either. He’s loved you for _years_, _years_ Evans! You wouldn’t have given him the time of day a year ago, much less had a conversation with him. He saved you from a shit boyfriend and to make up for it—,” 

“That’s a lie, and you know it,” Lily said through clenched teeth. “It’s time to get something straight, okay? Of course, I care about Regulus; he’s been a friend for years. I didn’t know that you moved out of your parents’ house until James told me, and that was a week ago. I didn’t know about your parents, about you and Reg, about _anything_. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t care, or that I’m not sorry for you! I’ve got a sister who hates me; you think I don’t know what it’s like?” 

Sirius looked up with a sullen, almost resigned glare. He had never been one to show his emotions, but Lily worried that she'd pushed too far. He sighed, turning away.

“My brother is a Death Eater, Evans,”

Lily’s breath caught. “No, he couldn’t be—” 

“He is,” Sirius said, turning to face her, his eyes piercing against her own. “And my parents are _pleased_ for him, following in the steps of Bellatrix and Narcissa and the rest. Death Eaters, the lot of them,” 

“But he seems so—,” 

“He’s gone, Evans,” Sirius said, taking a long drink from his glass, draining it and promptly pouring another measure. “If you care. Gone for good,” 

“Of course I—,” 

Sirius sighed, “James is all I have left, Evans, him and the others. The Potter’s took me in; I’ve been living with them when I’m not in school for over a year.” 

She couldn’t quite meet his eyes, but he stared into her own nonetheless. “I didn’t know about your sister," he said evenly. "But loyalty is hard to come by, and James will be loyal to you forever."

Lily shifted over, sitting beside him on the bench. Sirius was slumped over, his glass teetering on his knee.

“My parents, Evans,” Sirius whispered with tears in his eyes. “My parents abandoned me. The others are all that I have, and I couldn't—I couldn't bear it if I lost them too. Don't let it happen to you too, no matter what,"

"I promise," Lily said, taking his hand in both of hers. This creature was a foreigner to her; she didn't know what to make of Sirius being honest with her. Were they the same person? She couldn't seem to reconcile them. Was he still the Sirius Black who had intimidated her from their first days at Hogwarts. Sirius, the one who had dated Marlene for a day in fourth year and broke her heart. Sirius, who held her as she cried after she and James had fought. A Sirius she had never known, but perhaps one that he had been all along. A Sirius who worried about his friends, someone who had lost a brother, a family, and now a best mate— a friend he couldn’t afford to lose. Maybe they had been alike all along, more alike than anyone had known. 

Lily moved closer to him, shifting, so his head rested on her shoulder, and when he let go, she held him as he cried.

“James loves you, Sirius. God, he loves you so much,” 

It was many moments before Sirius’ sobs broke into hiccuping breaths and many more before he rose from her shoulder with a look of deep embarrassment on his face. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and rubbed his back as he dried his eyes and blew his nose. 

“Emotion is a tiresome business,” she said quietly. 

“I’m so—I’m sorry,” Sirius muttered, pulling himself off of her. 

“Why?” 

“It’s embarrassing,” 

“Nonsense. It’s about time you told someone how you felt. Keeping feelings inside hurts.” She paused and took his hands in her own. “You are _loved_, Sirius. You’re loved, and you’re thought of, and you’re not alone. You have to push on, you have to, or you’ll give up. You’re stronger than you think, stronger than they think you are.” 

“I—I lost my family, Evans,” Sirius said, tears in his eyes. “They’re gone forever. And fighting with James, he and the others—they’re all I have. I feel like I’ve lost him to you, he’s not the same as he used to be. I miss what we used to be,” 

“Love is not finite,” Lily said slowly, and Sirius sniffed before looking up. “It took me a long time to learn that. Just because someone you love loves somebody else doesn’t mean that they love you any less. Love is not quantifiable; you don’t only have a set amount to give,” 

“Why couldn’t he say that himself?” Sirius said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Instead of you?” 

“Because he’s an idiot and a toe-rag, and so far as I know, he’s hurting just as much as you are. He’s your best mate, Sirius. You’ll always be best mates,” 

“I misjudged you,” 

“No, you didn’t,” 

“Yes, I did. I thought you were… unworthy of his love. James deserves someone who loves him, who cares for him. But the way he looks at you—_God_, Evans, he’s not looked at a bird like the way he looks at you,” 

Lily flushed and fiddled with her hands. 

“I seem to recall,” Sirius said a moment later, transfiguring an old boot into a tumbler with a wave of his wand. “That you have an inclination towards the finer things in life,” Sirius poured a healthy measure of Firewhiskey into her glass and topped up his glass before offering it to her. “A toast of finer things to come?” 

Lily raised her glass and took a sip, the pleasant feeling of alcohol burned in her belly and left a feeling akin to courage fizzling in her.

“To better things to come,” she said. 


	14. When the Morning Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius and Lily find someone concealed in the depths of the castle and James looks closer into a solution to Amelia's memory loss.

**You can run away**

**Take everything you own**

**And be gone before the rising sun**

**Hop in your car, t** **urn the radio on**

**Singing songs like we were singing along**

**And when the morning comes, ** **you’ll be so far gone**

**Wish I would’ve got the chance to say**

**That if you never come back, ** **I just want you to know**

**I’m gonna love you either way**

**-Rising Sun, Prince of Spain **

...

It was long after dark by the time Sirius and Lily made their way back to the castle, the bottle of Firewhiskey noticeably emptier to what it had been when Sirius first arrived. They walked in the moonlight arm in arm, stumbling slightly with broad smiles on their faces. The main entrance to the castle was locked, and they giggled their way through more than one attempt of _Alohomora _before concluding that they wouldn’t be able to enter the way they came. Sirius held a finger up to his lips and took her by the hand, leading her down behind some ivy and beneath a stone bridge. The door was rusty, but after a few shoves, it gave way. 

“Where does this lead?”

“The Entrance Hall,” Sirius said, lighting his wand tip.

“Are you sure?” Lily asked, and Sirius nodded, walking slowly down the corridor. Lily wasn’t drunk, but she was certainly buzzed, buzzed enough not to notice the muddy footprints between their own, nor the scuffling sounds of movement just up ahead. 

The torches along the wall extinguished at once, and the corridor fell into darkness— in desperation, Lily looked back towards the door they entered, but there was no differentiating between the seemingly endless black. A hand gripped her own, and Sirius’ face— dim in the wand light— looked down on her with a hard determination. Lily lit her wand, and together they took several brave steps into the darkness. 

Something small skittered between their feet, and Lily screamed. Sirius tugged her into a run. Her feet pounded against the rough stone underfoot, and the hand that held Sirius’ clenched in fear. How long was the corridor? Their wands cast ghoulish shadows onto the walls, the light jumping as they ran. Was there someone there? Watching them in the dark? 

Her mind raced, it wasn’t that late, and this couldn’t be that secret of an entrance, being as close to the castle’s front door. Anyone with any wit at all would’ve known it was there, and evidently, somebody did. Sobriety hit Lily like a cold shower. Fear ran through her like water. Someone was there; someone was watching them, waiting for them. A figure loomed in the darkness, and both Lily’s and Sirius’ pointed their wands towards them. But something was off, not quite right. They walked together, and as they approached, Sirius kept his wand raised, not quite believing his eyes. 

His eyes were wild, and the hem of his robes caked with mud. He was muttering to himself, apparently not aware that Sirius and Lily were not even six feet away. 

“Sir?” Lily said bravely, taking another step towards him. “Mr. Crouch? Are you alright?” 

Crouch made a sudden movement towards them, and Sirius pushed Lily behind him almost instinctually and raised his wand, pointing it at Crouch’s chest.

“What are you doing here?” Sirius said in a slow, deadly voice. 

“Can’t find them, need to find them, need to warn them!” Crouch said quickly, and when he looked up, his eyes were wild and unfocused. Lily had only seen him with crisp robes and a neat moustache, but this was a man who hadn’t changed in days, his clothes were torn and unkempt, and when he looked at them, it was as if he was looking past them, trying to see something or someone that was no longer there. 

“Are you them?” Crouch continued, pointing his wand above Sirius’ shoulder. “Where have they gone?” 

“Where has who gone?” Lily said from under Sirius” arm. “Mr. Crouch, who are you looking for?” 

“Dumbledore—,” Crouch said madly, pulling at his hair with both of his hands. “Dumbledore needs to know! The Minister needs to be warned!” 

“Lower your wand,” Sirius said firmly, pushing Lily behind him before taking a step forward. “Lower your wand, and we can talk,” 

Crouch turned faster than Lily thought possible, but Sirius was faster, casting a nonverbal hex to Crouch’s form, and then a full-body bind for good measure. His body fell with a thick crack against the stones, and Sirius stayed only long enough to take Lily’s hand in his and run. 

They ran faster than Lily had run in ages, in a panic, and all thoughts other than that of the moment fled before they could form. Sirius was taller than her, and he ran a half-step ahead while Lily leant forward and sprinted to catch up. Her breath was thick in her throat, and her mind swirled with questions. What had Crouch been doing there? Who was he looking for? What had happened to leave him in that state? 

“We need to—need to find Dumbledore,” Lily gasped. 

“He’s gone!” Sirius said, “in London, he left this afternoon, we’ve been watching the map,” 

“He could’ve been down there for _days_, Sirius!” Lily said, trying to slow down, but Sirius tugged her hand forward back into a run. 

“We need to get out of here,” Sirius said quickly. “If something had happened, we can’t be seen here,” 

Up ahead, the darkness lessened, and a door appeared. Sirius wrenched the iron handle, and they popped out of the corridor behind a tapestry and into the Entrance Hall. She stood for a moment, hands on her knees to catch her breath as Sirius closed and locked the door behind him. She took several unsteady breaths, her mind racing and eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the brightness of the hall. 

It was late enough that the room was deserted, but once he had cast three or four wards on the door, Sirius took off towards the marble staircase, and Lily ran after him. 

Lily didn’t know where Sirius was going, but she ran after him nonetheless, up staircases and down corridors and through hidden passageways to the top floors of the castle. His steps were sure enough that she knew his intended destination even if he didn’t share it with her. Twice, they ducked behind corners as Aurors and Prefects did their rounds. The moonlight was thin, and Sirius and Lily dodged in the shadows without arousing suspicion. 

Once they turned the corner on the sixth floor, Lily stopped in confusion before Sirius led her to her front door. 

“In you go,” he said needlessly, gesturing to the doorknob. 

“Sirius, we need to tell somebody!” she said, attempting to belay the heaving of her chest with a stern expression. 

“No, you need not to get caught,” Sirius said, turning her shoulders towards the doorway. “I trust you can manage from here,” 

Lily pursed her lips. “You’re not going to tell a soul, are you?” 

“Go to bed, Evans,” he said, already taking a step in the opposite direction.

The door opened, and James appeared in the doorway with a look of relief on his face. He looked between Lily and Sirius, seemingly unable to make a connection between the two of them. 

“Where have you _been_?” he exclaimed, albeit quieter than he usually would have. “It’s been hours!” 

“Where have we been, Sirius?” Lily asked, and James’ eyes caught Sirius’ with a stern expression. “What have we been up to?” 

“She’s drunk, take her to bed,” Sirius said with a backward wave of his hand, and James looked down at her in confusion. 

“What happened?” James exclaimed, running his hands up and down Lily’s arms in concern. “Why have you been running?” 

“We found Barty Crouch in the—in the corridor off the Entrance Hall when the castle doors were locked. He’s mad, babbling on about something. I got her out of there and armed the door. We trapped him in there; we can deal with it in the morning,” 

“You found—why the hell is Barty Crouch in there? What happened to him?” 

“Beats me,” Sirius said with a shrug, “Goodnight,” 

Sirius turned down the corridor and walked out of sight, and James sighed as Lily walked under his arm into their dormitory. 

“Lily, you were gone for so long!” James exclaimed, running his hand along his jaw in delayed panic. “Remus has the map, and I couldn’t find him, and you were missing!” 

“Sirius was missing too,” said Lily with a yawn. “God, I’m knackered.” 

“What were you doing out there?” he asked as she sat on the edge of the sofa. 

“He needed cheering up, so I found him and—and I kept him company,” 

“That was—uh, that was nice of you,” 

“Frankly, it should’ve been you,” Lily said, pulling off her boots and lining them up by the hearth to dry before catching his eye. “He needed you,” 

“I wondered where he went,” James said, sitting down on the sofa, which gave unexpectedly and sent him for a lurch. “For God’s sake, if they can give us such a posh dormitory, the least they can do is protect them against certain death,” 

Lily pulled off her jumper and sat down beside him, more gently than he had. She leant forward, elbows on her knees. “You’d think,” 

“Barty Crouch, eh?” James said, “are you sure he won’t get out? What state was he in?”

“He was terrifying,” Lily said. “Sirius pushed me behind him, and I don’t know what he was going to do, but he wasn’t aiming to injure.”

James sighed, leaning forward on his knees. He looked over at her as if looking for injuries, but she didn’t have any. For all she knew, Sirius might have saved her life.

“I’m sorry for what I said today,” James said.

“Good,” Lily said, and he turned away, smiling. “No, I mean it, I’m not leaving you. No matter what you say,”

“I’m not leaving you, either,” James said. “I mean unless you want me to, but then you can bet your last Galleon I’m not going without a fight.”

“But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook with Sirius,” Lily said, “you need to apologize to him,”

“I will, I promise,” James said. “Right after we capture a deranged Ministry official, good _God_,” 

They sat in silence for a minute, the fire crackling merrily in the hearth. Now that Lily’s breath had slowed, she looked exhausted— like all the energy had drained out of her. But he couldn’t go to sleep without telling her, without explaining it to her.

“And what you said about Snape—,” James began and sighed before meeting her eye and continuing. “Earlier, I didn’t mean it, all the times I hexed him and bothered him, I didn’t think, I never meant for that to hurt you,” 

“Thank you for saying so,” 

James pulled his wand out of his robes and added another burst of flame to the dying fire, trying as hard as he could to mask the insane racing of his heart, the feelings of sheer _stupidity_ into landing where he was in the first place. How the hell did he find himself here, at midnight with Lily Evans talking about Snape and Sirius? He shifted himself towards her, and she leant into his arms, comfortable with him — with how close they had grown to one another.

She played with the end of her braid, shifting against him in a way that made him increasingly aware of the proximity between the two of them. All of this touching had had effects on him, and he wasn’t about to embarrass her, or worse, stop her talking. 

“He ended our friendship with what he did,” Lily continued, apparently oblivious to his plight. She was blunt; there was no indecision in her. This was a decision she wasn't waffling with. “I never want to talk to him again.” 

James considered this, playing absently with the button on his sleeve. He paused, about to speak, but stopped himself before a sound left his mouth. Lily seemed contemplative, and for the first time in his life, he offered comfort without aid, empathy without action. She didn’t need a flaming sword in the night; she needed someone to listen without judgement and hold her when she cried. 

“Snape is a Death Eater,” Lily said quietly, her hands shaking before she pulled them into fists. “I know that now. When he had the chance, he chose Voldemort over Dumbledore, and he's never coming back."

She took James’ hand and held them in both of her own, resting the whole of herself into his arms. He pulled her tight as she sobbed, rubbing the back of her neck, kissing her forehead, murmuring soothing little nothings into her ear.

“Sometimes, I thought that you preferred Snape over me,” James said quietly. “That you were in love with him and are just humouring me. I hate that you loved him,” 

Lily sniffed and wiped her eyes, and when she spoke, her voice was a little over a whisper. “I never loved him,” she said. “Sometimes I thought I did, but I loved him like a friend in the end. And a friend doesn’t ask the things of me he did; friends don’t call you—call you—,”

“I don’t blame you,” James said quickly, not wanting to hear her say it. “I had no idea he meant so much to you; I was teasing him for no reason whatsoever. Because I could, I guess, or because I thought others expected it of me. Nobody had ever tried to stop me before, no one had told me that what I was doing was objectionable, or somehow worse than what he was doing, but it was. I was such an idiot.” 

“Yes, you were,” Lily said, and James laughed. “No, I mean it! You were an irritating shithead of a human being, and I am so glad that _that_ James Potter is dead for good.” 

“Me too,” James said, straightening his legs out and wiggling his toes in front of the fire. “And this is nice, isn’t it? Being able to air our feelings without fighting?” 

“And to think,” Lily said sardonically, wiping her tears away. “Maybe one day we’ll be able to without me crying too,” 

“You can cry all you like,” James said, ruffling the top of her hair. She giggled, leaning back into him, and the distinctly male part of him puffed up at the thought that he could make Lily Evans giggle, make her laugh when she was upset. He loved it.

She sat up straighter and smiled in his direction, “I’m going to change, I’ve been in this skirt for far too long. I’ll only be a minute.” 

James watched as she walked down to her bedroom and turned to face the fire with a smile. This was everything he had wished they could have together; they could tell each other things, be honest and talk things through. Their garden was nearly perfectly rosy, if not for this business with Crouch. He was only supposed to be at Hogwarts for a fortnight, but had he been here all along? What was he doing in there all alone? Muttering in the dark? And where had Sirius gone? Hadn’t he better chase after him? Rouse the other Marauders and find McGonagall? Wasn’t that more important than talking about Snape? 

But a selfish part of him disagreed; _she_was more important. Her feelings towards her sister and Snape and whomever else was more important than some pompous Ministry official. Maybe not to the greater good Dumbledore had told him about, but to him, certainly. 

Lily’s door creaked open, and she appeared in her nightie with a dressing gown around her shoulders. She sat beside him with a smile before reaching for the coffee table, lifting parchment and open books to produce a book, which she handed to him. “Can you read to me?” 

James grinned, taking the battered copy of Robinson Crusoe from her hands as she settled back into his arms. “If you’d like me to,” 

“I would; I haven't read that one in ages,” 

James kissed the top of her head, his mind racing. “Then I think we had better start at the beginning, shouldn’t we?” 

He made a show of turning to the first page in the old book and relit the candles that hovered around the Common Room. The glow was soft, the light flickering high shadows on the ceiling and walls. Lily tucked herself into his side, and he began reading. “I was born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good family, though not of that country, my father being a foreigner of Bremen, who settled first at Hull. He got a good estate by merchandise, and leaving off his trade, lived afterwards at York, from whence he had married my mother, whose relations were named Robinson…,”

James played with her hair as he read, enunciating different voices for her amusement. She was calm and relaxed, her body soft against his own and smiled as he read to her; one chapter and then another. His voice was steady and amusing, but it was late, and he was warm and the sofa comfortable and when his voice stopped suddenly she stirred. 

“James?” 

She heard a rustling as he set his book on the side table. “I’m just putting the book away; I can read more tomorrow if you’d like,” 

“I would,” she said, closing her eyes with a smile. “Thank you, that was wonderful. No one’s read to me in a long time. I liked it,” 

She relaxed against him as he turned back towards her. They had been sleeping together in his bed for a few weeks, but he couldn't get over the feeling of her in his arms.

She made no move to rise, and he lay still beneath her as she drifted off to sleep, a loose smile on her lips. 

Asleep, she looked younger than she did awake. The frown she wore most days evaporated in sleep, and the little creases around her eyes and mouth relaxed into a soft expression. James kissed her carefully, brushing her hair away from her forehead, and smiled as she wrapped an arm around him in her sleep. As comfortable as she looked, she’d be happier in bed. But he moved slowly so not to wake her, inch by inch he rose and then took her in his arms, carefully nestling her head against his neck. He pushed open the door with his foot and lay her down on his bed. 

She looked so peaceful, with her curling hair and white nightgown, she looked almost ethereal in the moonlight. James tucked her into his sheets, pulling the comforter up over her, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she wasn’t quite asleep. Her eyes were closed in a way that would suggest as such, but once he released her, she tucked in on herself and was too tight to suggest it. 

James pulled in beside her, nudging her hand with his own. “Lils?” 

She didn’t respond, and he looked at her with a quiet smile as she curled up all hair and bedsheets. The decent thing to do would be to get his clothes out of his chifforobe and change into his pyjamas in the loo. But a quiet part of him _liked_ the thought that if she was to wake up, was to open her eyes, she’d see him. See him and _Merlin_ would she like what she saw? 

The light was dim; he reasoned with himself as he slipped his cardigan off and started on his buttons. Even if she were to wake up, she wouldn’t see much. The moon was still low in the sky, and the clouds hid the majority of the light. And a secret part of his heart lifted, because even if she was to see, wouldn’t he do it anyway? 

He shed his shirt and tie, hanging both over the chair in his bedroom with his eyes fixed on her. His shoes were next, kicked off into a corner along with his socks. He shed his trousers slowly, mindful of the rustle of clothing he stepped out of them with care.

He was bare except for his pants, and he walked slowly to the chifforobe to find his pyjama bottoms, not quite daring to bare it all in front of her. Not yet, at least not without her watching—not without her aware of what was happening.

He snuck off to the loo to brush his teeth, and upon returning, she had shifted, turned towards him in a way that made him blush. She wasn’t exposed, per se, but her nightgown had shifted its strap, and a whole expanse of creamy freckled skin, and _Merlin_ the swell of her breasts as she breathed became suddenly almost too much for him to bear. She was asleep; he chastised himself. Asleep and trusting him not to muck things up. With resolve, he tucked himself in gingerly beside her, his heart beating a mile a minute. She stirred and flipped about to tuck herself into his side. He kissed her forehead and, in minutes, was fast asleep. 

...

The morning dawned with calm, stillness and rustling sheets. For the first time in over a year, James had slept through the night, the whole night with no interruptions. Back when they were in the process of becoming Animagi, James had justified his restlessness with the lack of sleep. Lack of answers. But as he grew older—and the fawn Prongs grew into a stag— it became even more apparent that something else was at play. There was something different, something not altogether separated from his anxiety and feelings of growing helplessness. He knew that Voldemort was coming for them; deep down, he supposed that he had known for years.

There was something sinister about the way he had attacked Hogsmeade, the matter in which he had struck any number of places in the past couple of years. And wasn’t James just as vulnerable as the rest? He was seventeen; he had a family, friends, blood traitors and Muggle supporters the lot of them. He was Head Boy, (he didn’t suppose this mattered to Voldemort, but it was there, nonetheless), had taunted and teased Death Eater sympathizers the whole time he was at school. He was best mates with Sirius, and hadn’t his parents taken him in? The war was coming; today or next year, it made no difference. The war was coming, and he had never been more vulnerable. The thoughts of Sirius clouded his otherwise happy morning, and he frowned at the thought.

But Lily was here; she had stayed through the night. When he was with her, all the unhappy thoughts of the night before seemed to dissipate. He was a notoriously restless sleeper, but things were different now that she slept all these nights in his arms. He could pull her close, breathe her in, kiss her neck, and in his dreams, the four posts of his bed were a shield against the world. Nothing could happen to them there; he could protect her from Voldemort and the Death Eaters if she slept in his arms. 

He knew it wasn’t true, but when the door was locked and the curtains were drawn, he could imagine it was—a thousand little locks to protect Lily Evans from the world. 

The first time he did it, it was an accident. It must’ve happened in his sleep, a powerful shield charm on his bedroom door, and he had damned the sticky hinges to high heaven until he remembered, and he sank against the doorframe in sudden realization. Lily had given him a look he wouldn’t quickly forget. A sort of sadness, sympathy. She had kissed him deeply, and taken his hand, waving the charm away without a second thought. 

After that night, he put the charms on the door every night almost automatically, one after another in the same sequence. It was a shame of innocence that he knew so many. Lily sat huddled on his bed; sheets pulled all around her. During the daytime hours, the threat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters felt distant, far off. The stone walls of the castle and the charms of protection on the gate gave him and the others a sense of security they couldn’t put into words.

Dumbledore appeared more regularly, winking at him from the high table towards his bench at the Gryffindor table reminded him painfully of the task Dumbledore had given him. It had been some time since Amelia’s attack, and the rumours surrounding the event had been passed over for more recent gossip. Amelia was shaken, there was no mistaking the way she turned suddenly without warning or the habit of walking in pairs or groups of three moving throughout the castle. It was like an itch under his skin, a feeling of misgivings and confusion that he couldn’t shake. What business had an Auror as reputable as Moody attacking a student? What reasons had he? Was it leftover nerves? An itchy wand hand? But in the weeks previous, neither he nor Crouch had appeared at meals or in the corridors during the day. The Aurors who patrolled were changed regularly, never the same pair twice. He supposed it was for everyone’s good that they were there, but what was their business with Amelia? 

In the nights just after her attack, he lay awake for longer than he should have, running every variation of Amelia’s kidnapping through his mind. She was alone, just past midnight in the Charms corridor. What was she doing there? Their homework with Flitwick couldn’t have been pressing enough to ask him so long after dark. Was she looking for something? Somebody? Why had she not told Alice or Marlene where she was going? It wasn’t in her nature to be secretive. But whatever had her take to the dark castle that night was as much a mystery to Amelia as it was to anybody else. She had no recollection of the night, and her report to Dumbledore the morning after the attack contained more questions than answers. He supposed that they might never know what happened that night, but— 

His heart thumped madly in his chest. Had they considered? No, it was unlikely, and unorthodox for that matter. They wouldn’t have tried Veritaserum. Or legilimency. Both were invasive and questionable interrogation techniques, not to mention slightly illegal without consent. But wouldn’t she consent? Didn’t she want to know the nature of what had happened to her as much as anyone? 

Lily lay sleeping quietly, undisturbed by the rapid thoughts chasing one another in James’ mind. They had an answer! 

Part of an answer, he thought with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his forehead deep in thought. Legilimency was a tricky skill and very personal. Not many would like another digging about in their thoughts and memories. But if he could learn, wouldn’t she rather have her past examined by a friend and not a stranger? 

James knew that Regulus was a noted legilimens, he should ask Sirius—

No, he couldn’t, he thought with a shake of his head. He couldn’t, and he knew it. Sirius didn’t want to hear from him. He had made that abundantly clear. Moreover, even if he could get through to Sirius, he knew that Sirius wouldn’t ask Regulus for him, or anybody else. They had a complicated and distant relationship. More so, he knew, on Sirius’ side than Regulus’. Sirius had left home at sixteen, and other than passing one another in the hallway, they hadn’t spoken since. And not only that, Sirius was supposedly taking care of the business with Crouch and didn’t want to hear from him anyway. 

James wiped a hand over his eyes, deep in thought, but smiled quietly at the sight of Lily curled up against him. Her nightgown rested somewhere above her hips, and the feeling of her bare legs rubbing against his own was euphoric. Her hair hid her face, but the sun shone sunflowers into his bed, reddish and golden. Her arms snaked around his neck as she stirred in her sleep, stretching her body out the full length of his own. He kissed her neck and nuzzled her nose with his own. She stirred again, and he kissed her. 

“It’s late,” she murmured, “too late?” 

“For school, nah,” James said, reaching down to kiss her neck. “We’ve still ten minutes before we’re late for the first period,” 

“James!” Lily said, sitting upright in bed. “Ten minutes? I have to get ready!” 

“How long does that take?” James said, but she was already out of the sheets and through the door. He could hear her muttering down the hall, pulling things out of her wardrobe with haste. 

“All you have to do is pull on the same thing you wear every day,” James said, following her to her bedroom and leaning against her doorframe. She waved her hand dismissively, head buried in her wardrobe. “Come on, come back to bed,” 

She stumbled about the room, bumping her hip against her bed frame with a hiss of pain as she struggled into stockings. Her room was a disaster, James thought fondly, her things tossed all over. Her school tie was half-buried in her trunk, the neat letters LRE embossed into the side of the trunk. It was the only neat thing about it; the rest was a scattered cacophony of Muggle stickers, signatures, names of bands he didn’t know, scratches and dents from the many travels from Kings Cross. She reached with both hands for the hem of her nightgown before she realized he was standing in the doorway and looked over with wide eyes. 

“James!” She exclaimed, dropping the hem in a flash. “I’m dressing!” 

“I noticed, believe it or not,” 

She rolled her eyes, her cheeks flushing suddenly. “Care to give me some privacy?” 

“Lily, I’ve seen you in your knickers before,” James said, pretending not to notice how fast his heart was racing. He swallowed suddenly, aware of what he said. “I mean—,” 

“I’m not wearing knickers,” she hissed, her face flushed. “Close the door!” 

“You’re not—,” 

“James! I need to get dressed!” 

The door slammed in his face, and he couldn’t help but listen as fabric rustled from behind the wood. Was she undressing? Why couldn't he see? Was she still not comfortable with him?

How was this any different than when they were in bed? Did she not remember the way she had laid beside him, sleeping in his arms? Were their moments of intimacy condemned to stay in the nighttime hours? James rubbed a hand over his face and pressed his ear to the door, wishing that someday he’d be allowed to undress her the way he had always wanted to, to pull that nightgown over her shoulders and just _touch_. 

“You can come in now,” Lily said a minute later. He opened it slowly, but Lily was already very nearly dressed and was tying her tie impatiently. She just managed it before she flipped her skirt front to back to do up the buttons. 

“Shit!” she said, her hair hanging in front of her eyes, blocking her vision. “I’m going to be so late,” 

“Stop,” James said, resting his hands on her shoulders as she slumped with an exhale. “Hey, slow down. Stay still for a minute, I’ll plait, and you can dress, and then brush your teeth. How’s that sound?” 

“Thanks, James,” she said quietly, suddenly very aware of his presence so close behind her. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and did up her skirt, walking with him to the loo with measured steps. How was this different than any other time? She thought. If you didn’t want him to see you starkers, you should’ve been more prepared. 

But wasn’t she prepared? Hadn’t she thought that it was time, just the night before, to take things to the next step? Her face warmed as she remembered him coming in the night before, looking for signs of her alertness before undressing? Hadn’t she watched through slits as he unbuttoned his school shirt, slipped off his tie? Hadn’t her breath caught as she watched him pull down his trousers, seen his bare chest and legs exposed for her eyes only? Hadn’t she watched him last night? Watched as he watched her? 

And who was she kidding? Hadn’t she enjoyed it? 

The night before was hazy; she had been hopped up on adrenaline and fear before sinking into sleep. But her choice of pyjamas had been intentional, a new silky nightie she adored. And at the last moment, hadn’t she kicked off her knickers and settled for a night of reading anticipating him? Hadn’t she brushed her hair and said her prayers and waited in anticipation of him finding her like that? She rubbed her legs together in thoughts of him, noticing her like this, perhaps as he pulled the sheets back when he returned? What would he do? What would he say? Would he care? Would it matter to him at all that she had been blatantly risqué on his behalf? 

But it hadn’t mattered, the moment was lost.

She pulled her toothbrush out of the little cup by the sink and stood still as he pulled her brush off of her vanity. Lily tried not to watch as he pulled the brush through her hair almost reverently, gently pulling one section through the bristles after another. She squeezed the toothpaste tube harder than she meant to as his hip bumped up against hers, pinning her to the sink. Quite pleasantly so, Lily thought with a shock. More pleasantly than she thought it would be. 

Her breath caught in her throat as his breath tickled the little hairs at the back of her neck. She looked up in the mirror; he wore the same concentrated face as he had yesterday, eyes fixed on his task. 

“I had a thought last night,” James said, his eyes fixed on hers through the mirror. 

“Oh?” she said, attempting to take the breathiness out of her voice, trying for a cooler tone. “Oh?” 

“About Amelia,” he said, tying her plait with a hair tie around his wrist. “We could try Legilimency,” 

Lily’s mind swirled with possibilities, but also disappointment. Business it would be. But she couldn’t deny, as frustrated she was at the current turn of events thatLegilimency might be the answer to all their questions. It had risks, though— it was invasive, personal. She knew Amelia wouldn’t appreciate someone picking through her memories, but it was tempting. Such an easy solution and just within reach. 

“I wonder,” Lily began, “I mean—or, we could try Veritaserum. It’s notoriously tricky though,” 

“I thought much the same,” James said, reaching past her for a hair ribbon to secure her plait. “If we’re going to get to the bottom of it, we may as well explore every avenue,” 

“I’d rather the potion than mind-reading,” Lily said, replacing her toothbrush in the cabinet. “And I’m sure Amelia would too,” 

James looked down and smiled, taking her hand. “We’d better hurry, you ready?” 

“James, you’re still in your pants. I’m the one who’s ready for a change,” 

“Right you are, Evans,” James said, reaching for the knob. “I won’t be a minute,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a lot of inspiration for Sirius here from his actions in OotP, stuck in Grimmauld Place isolated from Remus and Harry, alone with his thoughts and cycling into a pit of despair. A quote from 12 Years a Slave stuck with me this week: “if you let yourself be overcome by sorrow, you’ll drown in it,”. Sirius was selfish with the people in his life here, and he was selfish until the end of his life. But that selfishness came from a place of deep hurt, and it's easy to forget that in 1977 he’s seventeen years old, and the problems that come to teenagers and adults come for him as well. His family has abandoned him, his brother sided with the Death Eaters, and when Lily and James surged together, I imagine he wasn’t happily watching from the sidelines. It’s tough when dynamics between friends change, and Sirius is no exception. Sirius is moody, and here he thinks that he’s lost his best mate in the world to some bird who wouldn’t give him the time of day even six months prior.   
This miscommunication between Sirius and James is also pulled from GoF and HBP when Harry and Ron squabbled, with Hermione playing the part of disgruntled referee instead of Remus.   
With love,   
V


	15. Of Her Garden and Her Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble in Hogsmeade strikes movement from James and Lily's friends and trouble swells in the ranks of the enemy

**Once I stood to lose her w** **hen I saw what I had done **

**Bound down and flew away the hours**

**Of her garden and her sun **

**So I tried to warn her, ** **I’ll turn to see her weep **

**Forty days and forty nights **

**and it’s still coming down on me **

**-Hard Sun, Eddie Vedder **

**… **

Once James dressed, they walked quickly down to the Great Hall in search of breakfast hand in hand. Lily’s thoughts strayed to her spur of the moment brazen behaviour, equally agitated and elated with herself for thinking that it was a good idea. And it wasn’t an altogether _bad_ idea (if his expression towards her knicker-less existence spoke anything less than volumes), but it hadn’t _done_ anything. They weren’t any closer than they had been the night before, and if sleeping next to him with nothing but a satin nightie didn’t get him going, what would? 

But hadn’t he been interested? Hadn’t he undressed in front of her knowing that she might see? Hadn’t he declared his love for her, read to her when she asked, listened as she bore her heart to him? And how was that any less intimate, any less important? Wasn’t a meeting of the minds just as necessary as any physical expressions of love? 

Lily squeezed his hand, and he rubbed his thumb over hers almost unconsciously, seemingly unaware of how little it took to send shivers through her head to toe. Loving James, being with him was unlike any relationship she had ever had before. He wasn’t a mystery to uncover, or a goal to strive towards, he was just—just himself. Utterly himself; honest and earnest and flirty. She was comfortable with him, comfortable knowing that he would never put her in a compromising position, never embarrass her, never push her beyond what she was comfortable with. He would kiss her, touch her, reach for her, but never without her express permission. Never without her giving the okay, either by word or expression and by God, she loved him for it. 

Never had she been so horrified by her actions when she had kissed him all those months before, when she had taken advantage of his feelings, of his heart to be a balm unto her own. She has gone against her morals, her ideologies, and at the time, it had just felt _right_. Like it was meant to be, predestined and preordained. And hadn’t it been? Haven’t they been forced to be better for one another? 

By the time they reached the first-floor landing, the corridor and the Entrance Hall were strangely, eerily quiet. The students who walked past them did so with harried steps and without looking up, and James slowed to a stop. 

Without saying a word, James’ hand tightened in her own, and they walked a little quicker into the Great Hall. 

It was nearly empty, as close to first period as it was, but James took a quick running step towards the Hufflepuff table and took an abandoned copy of the Prophet in hand. 

His face paled as he read, and Lily sat on the table beside him before he handed it to her to see for herself. 

“Death Eater attack in Hogsmeade,” she read, the headline bold and terrible. “Fifteen dead, all Muggleborns and blood traitors. Forty-five missing, presumed dead,” 

James tangled his hands in his hair, pacing back and forth in front of her. 

Lily dropped the newspaper onto her lap, and the Head Table appeared in the corner of her eye. Why couldn’t Dumbledore have prevented this? What was being done to counter this gross injustice? And a small part of her mind stopped short— how many of those who died has she known? How many were shopkeepers she had made friendly conversation with, how many villagers she had passed by from all those Hogsmeade weekends? 

“The Minister made a statement,” James continued, “Look below, the shops have shut down until further notice,” 

The rest of the newspaper seemed to fade away as she considered the headline. There were advertisements for broom polish, cleaning solutions, sweets at Honeydukes. Holiday homes for sale in the Canary Islands, reports of a wizard she had never heard of ascending to a new post in the Misuse Use of Muggle Artefacts Office. But none of mattered, all of them were at risk until the war was over.

“Until Voldemort is dead, you mean,” Lily said with an edge, folding the paper and tossing it down beside her. “Dead and his wrongs accounted for, “ 

James took the newspaper back and flipped the page, scanning headlines with his eyebrows scrunched together. He folded the paper carefully and tucked it into his robes’ pocket. 

“Lily, I can’t stop until he’s gone,” he said quietly, the steel in his voice startling. “Dead and gone, and all memory of him is erased. I can’t live with a good conscience in a world that allows people like that to desecrate an entire group of people because of his personal opinions! The second we’re out of here, I’ll do it, do whatever it takes to get rid of him for good.” 

“Whatever it takes?” Lily said. 

“Yeah, whatever it takes,” James said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Lily closed her eyes, ignoring the sound of the bell for first-period ringing. “James, he’s a psychopath out for blood, we’re barely of age—,” 

“You won’t let me fight?” James said quietly, a tone he’d never used with her before. 

“James, won’t _let_ you?” 

“Yeah, won’t let me,” James repeated, “I’m of age, and I need to do my bit against Voldemort! I need to prove my worth!” 

“You don’t need to prove anything,” Lily said, her eyebrows creasing in worry. “James, you have _nothing_ to prove to Dumbledore or anybody else!” 

“No, you don’t get it,” James said shortly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “This is _war_, Evans. War against Voldemort. He’s killed and bewitched and broken up enough families and destroyed enough lives, and enough is enough! Enough is enough! The second I’ve graduated, I’m signing up, no matter what it takes. I’ll fight, I’ll do it.” 

"Good," Lily said, crossing her arms, "we can sign up together,"

"Lily, he’s a murderer, I want you nowhere near this,”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Lily said. “if this is some masochistic bullshit—,”

“I want—Evans, I need you _safe_,” James said, taking her hands firmly in his own, and she looked up with a hard expression. “I need you safe; I can’t fight if I don’t know that you’ll be safe, be taken care of if I don’t make it!” 

“Let’s get one thing clear, okay?” Lily said, all else fading away until all James could see was her. “Your death is not any less likely than mine, and if you think that you can stop me now, you’re kidding yourself. Look at what happened to my dad! James, life is by the day, not the week, the month, the year—tomorrow is promised to _nobody_. And if you want to fight, expect me right there beside you. I swore I’d never leave you, and I won’t be leaving you now,” 

“Evans—,” 

“No, you listen, James Potter. For once, here is my vendetta against the world. Voldemort is coming, that much is clear. He’s coming, and he’s ruthless, and there’s only so much we can do. But we can petition, and raise support, and lead rallies and fight battles and if you think for one second that I won’t be in the middle of it, by your side, by Sirius’ and Remus’ and Peter’s, and with Marlene and Alice and all of my friends, you’ve another thing coming. Because there will be a war, not tomorrow, and maybe not the next day, but it’s coming. And when it does, James Potter, I won’t be holding you back. I’ll be right there, always there, right beside you.” 

...

James went through the day in a haze, his classes past like clockwork, double Potions, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures. He had lunch, but couldn’t remember what he ate, answered questions when McGonagall asked them, but he couldn’t say what she taught. It wasn’t until dinner had passed that James noticed the way the others watched him out of the corner of their eyes in the corridors, the uneasy steps Muggleborns took, the strange smugness in Yaxley and his mates. It felt premeditated, already planned, but it couldn’t have been. Snape couldn’t have left; there was no way to leave the grounds. With the increased Auror presence and the perimeter spells, it would take knowledge of the secret passages for them to be able to—to— 

“James, cut it out, mate,” Remus said, and James spun about, a fork held tightly in his fist. “You’re scaring people,”

James rubbed a hand over his face and slowly became aware of his surroundings. The Great Hall was nearly empty, but many of his friends lingered over pudding. He looked down at his plate, unsurprised to see an untouched steak and kidney pie. He dropped the fork and picked up his book bag, standing. 

“I need your help,” James said to Lupin, who nodded, nudging Peter with his elbow. Sirius was already standing, his face unreadable. “All of your help, we need to know where Snape is,” 

“I could’ve told you that,” Marlene said, pointing a finger behind her where a sallow-faced Snape lingered over his pudding, deep in discussion with his mates. “Even without your fancy map,” 

“Not where he is, Mar, where he’s _been_,” 

“The hell is he on about?” Alice asked, and Marlene shrugged. 

“Is it about the disappearances?” Lily asked, and James nodded, his eyes wide. “What could Snape have had to do with that?” 

“I don’t know, could be anything. Snape could’ve involved directly, and we’d have never known. He’d cover his tracks,” 

“And the deaths,” Sirius said, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “You think that Snape’s involved?” 

James' mind spun, all the pieces seemingly falling into place. The way Yaxley smirked around him these days. The strange movements Travers made, grabbing at his forearm. The Slytherin’s in their year huddling over a table in the library, whispering excitedly to one another. 

“And, oh God,” James shouted, slamming his fist on the table. “How did I not see this before?” 

Alice began to ask a question, but Sirius made a sudden motion, and both James and Alice stopped as if he’d been forced to. 

“Prongs, stop. We can continue this upstairs,” 

James grabbed hold of Lily’s hand, and they ran together towards the sixth floor. Away from listening ears and spies and enemies in every corner. To their dormitory, somewhere they could be alone and not overheard. 

Once they arrived, panting and sweaty, Lupin said the password and their door swung open. Not a moment passed before James turned to face them. 

“The Room of Requirement, the Slytherin’s talking under their breath in the corridors,” he said feverishly, “It's all connected! Did you notice Travers and Rosier talking to one another?” 

“James, they’re dorm mates,” Lupin said. “They can’t exactly ignore each other, can they?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” James said, “with the disappearances, the missing people, the attacks in Hogsmeade we knew about it. Dumbledore told us, but that’s not it either. We’re missing something; it’s right in front of us!” 

“James, slow down,” Alice said, “what are you talking about?” 

“It’s Snape, isn’t it?” Lily said quietly, and James pointed his finger at her repeatedly with a broad smile on his face. 

“Snape?” Peter said. “What does he have to do with anything?” 

“You think they’re behind it, don’t you?” Sirius asked, and James nodded.

“You can’t be serious,” Marlene said, her accent thick and voice fast. “They’re students; they’re our age! They’re not—they can’t be— you can’t seriously think that they’re Death Eaters, can you?” 

“You think it’s Snape who kidnapped Amelia?” Lupin asked. “And who, uh, did that thing to Crouch?” 

“What happened to Crouch?” Marlene asked. 

“He was in a corridor, trapped, muttering nonsense last night,” Lily said. “Sirius and I found him, stunned and bound him and left him there. We haven’t—we haven’t done anything since,” 

“I don’t know what they are,” James said evenly, a mask falling over his features at the thought. “They could be behind all of it, all of these unanswered questions,” 

“He looked mad,” said Lily, “Crouch. He wasn’t in his right mind. Whatever happened to him was beyond his ability to counteract,” 

“Or he’s a conspirator,” Sirius said. “In on it, so to speak,”

“Come on,” Alice said. “He’s a Ministry employee; he couldn’t have been—he wouldn’t have, right?” 

“There’s always the Imperius,” James said. Lily wasn’t quite able to meet his eye, but it was possible. It was rumoured that Voldemort and the Death Eaters used the Imperius curse, and it made sense. It made too much sense, but it couldn’t be, could it? 

“Prongs, come on,” said Lupin, his eyes wary. “Sure, Snape’s a slimy son of a bitch, but Mars is right. He’s sixteen—.” 

“Seventeen,” Lily said, somewhat embarrassed to the promptness of her admission. 

“Whichever,” Lupin said evenly. “Why the hell would You-Know-Who recruit a student?” 

“He could be a mole,” Sirius said, snapping his forefinger and thumb in James’ direction, a new light in his eyes. “You could be on to something. If Voldemort had spies at Hogwarts—,” 

“He’d know that Dumbledore’s not here very often,” James continued. 

“And that mistakes have been made by the Aurors to secure the grounds.” 

“Not to mention Amelia’s attack,” 

“And if all of these things are connected—,” 

“Then this war you keep going on about is closer than we thought it was,” 

… 

It was near two o’clock before the last of the buzzed Marauders left their dormitory for their beds, and Lily and James made the sly indication towards a complimentary sleeping arrangement. They brushed their teeth, and he combed her hair and plaited it before heading off to his bedroom to change into his pyjamas. And once Lily was alone, she considered the options before her. 

She could wear the nightie she had worn the night before (a slightly scandalous number she had bought after she broke up with Arthur) or the longer, significantly less transparent option she usually wore. 

Lily shed her school clothes with a quick dismissiveness, trying to push back how nervous she was, but hadn’t they agreed that it was time to take things to the next level? Hadn’t they, if not verbally, then with every other method of communication? 

Was he as nervous as she was? Did he think through all of his actions as thoroughly as she did? But he must, she thought, undoing the zip in her skirt and kicking it off. He must, because if he didn’t, it belayed everything she knew about him. James was methodical, not as hot-headed as she was. He stopped to think things through, if not in the moment, then certainly prior. James knew what he was about, and he wasn’t about to play games for his amusement. 

She pulled out her scrunchie and shimmied out of her stockings and her knickers. Before she could overthink it, she slid on a nightgown and left her underthings behind.

James was half-asleep by the time she tucked herself into his bed beside him, and she welcomed his warm weight as if they’d been sleeping together for years. She let herself be comforted by his steady breathing and clean smell, by the _tink_ of rain hitting the high windows and the long day she’d had, and not five minutes later was fast asleep. 

… 

The next morning dawned bright and clear, and after glancing at her clock burrowed herself further into his arms. It was still early; luckily, she had always been an early riser. 

They had been sleeping in the same bed every night for just over a week, and she was _loving_ it. She loved how easy it was, how simple it had been to walk past her bedroom for his, to slip on her pyjamas and tuck herself into his arms after a long day. She loved how secure she felt, how cared for she was. How it felt to have his lips on her neck, and his hands on her hips and to kiss him with abandon, without restraint. She supposed that sooner or later, if things were to continue the way they were now (and if both of them upheld the illusion that she only slept in his bed to chase away nightmares) and were to escalate, she wouldn’t be altogether opposed. Twice more, she had felt the evidence of his lust for her in the night, and the flush of excitement that coursed through her veins at the sensation wasn’t quite the same as it had been a month ago. She wasn’t afraid, not anymore. Not of James, not of what this could lead to, not to what they could do together if it should come to it. She loved him, and she trusted him to love her gently. He wasn’t about to push himself on her. 

And hadn’t he been lovely? He had done her hair every morning since that morning when she was late for class, brushing and parting and fixing her hair in different styles every day. She felt his love in everything that he did, in every touch, every word was said with trust and adoration. She ran her fingertip over his jaw, the curve of his neck. She smiled at the sight of his early morning scruff, James Potter had become a man right before her eyes. 

It took her a moment to remember the events of the night before, the talks about the war seemed less far off and imaginary than she would have liked. Her conversation with James in the Great Hall surprised her, did he honestly think she wasn't going to stand by him? Him and the others against Voldemort? She was a different person than she was six months ago, aloof and disinterested in all else but school, but things were different now. Lily wasn't as heartbroken as she supposed she would be about Snape's supposed affiliations. He had been leaning towards black magic for years. But she was done making excuses for him, done loving him when she had no business doing so. Snape was her past, and there was nothing but the war in her future.

Lily started when warm arms snaked around her middle and pulled her closer to him. She smiled quietly at the firmness to which James held her, even in sleep. They were pressed closely together, and as he breathed, Lily became aware of the way his form moulded to her own, the warmth of his body, the faint puff of air into her hair as he breathed deep and slow. Gently, she twisted about, so they faced one another. His eyelashes were so long, she thought, relaxed and soft. He looked so small in sleep. Not like a war hero or a freedom fighter. Still so much the boy, but the man James Potter was there as well. In his words and actions, in the way he held her, in the respect he held for his friends. She raised a finger, quietly as to not disturb him, and softer than soft; she mapped his features with her finger in the way she had always wanted to, wishing she was brave enough to touch him this way when he was awake. 

His eyebrows were thick, scrunched up at some quiet emotion, and she smiled at the sight of touching him the way she was. How far they had come, even in two months. How far they’d come to not speaking to sleeping together, touching, kissing in their own Common Room. His hair was so endearing, she thought with a sleepy smile. Wavy and wild, with a part in the back that didn’t lie quite flat, despite the faint smell of his father’s hair tonic. She ran her fingers through his fringe and traced a freckle on his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb. Beneath the sheets, she could feel his legs stretching, sliding deliciously against her own. He woke slowly, and with a sloppy smile, pulled Lily close to him and tucked his face into her neck. 

“Morning, Evans,” he murmured into her hair, his breath hot, every part of him pressed up against her. She kissed the top of his head, and he hummed happily into her neck. His arm slid over her breasts in his effort to get closer to her, but he didn’t quite seem to notice to effect it had on her, the quiet gasp of surprise and happiness from such a small touch, even an unintended one. He kissed her neck with clumsiness and devotion, sliding his hand down her waist towards her hip and froze when he came into contact with bare skin.

Lily started, and James pulled his hand away in a flash, and the two of them stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. He leant back onto his forearms as if he'd activated a bomb. Lily's heart pounded in her chest, staccato, not synchronized but complimentary, a tenor to a bass. One after the other, eyes blown, covers exposed, a hand where it was not meant to be. Not yet, not so soon, not without express permission. 

“I’m sorry,” James began, shaking his hand as if it was on fire. “I shouldn’t have— I didn’t mean to—,” 

Lily swallowed, trying to steady her heart. She hadn’t meant to embarrass, for him to realize what they were working towards. Exposure where it was not intended, she never expected to fluster him, and who was she for doing so? If it was love they were reaching towards, fighting towards where was the exposure in the moment of perpetual ease? What was a fork doing in the middle of the road to happiness? 

She had meant for this to be a secret, but her nightgown must’ve ridden up in the night. She didn’t want to embarrass him, to make a big thing of it, but wasn’t it a big thing? Hadn’t she worn what she was wearing for his benefit, for his enjoyment? 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” she said, feeling quite contrary to her tone despite the steadiness of her voice. “Look at me, James,” 

He pulled his gaze towards her, and fear looked back at her. Not a virgin fear, nor a veteran stance but a myriad of confusion and lust and joy and shame. He had done nothing worthy of dishonour, and she needed him to know that. 

“Do you remember what I said earlier?” Lily said, not making any moves to pull down her nightgown, taking his hand in both of her own. They were shaking, and Lily steadied them in hers. 

“Uh, what?” James said, not quite meeting her eyes.

“Earlier, when you tried to watch me change,” Lily said. “I didn’t let you, because—,” 

“You’re joking,” James said, rubbing his forehead in embarrassment. “That’s it; you’ve had me for a laugh,” 

She shook her head, very aware of how high the hem of her nightgown was and how exposed she must be to him. He still looked afraid, and that just wouldn’t do. She made a sudden move, pushing him onto his back and settling herself above him, her knees bracketing his thighs. Her hair was intoxicating, and when she leant down to kiss him, his brain nearly exploded in pleasure. 

She tangled her fingers in his curls, and he wrapped his hands around her waist instinctually, pulling her closer. They were shaking, but growing stronger every moment, chasing her with his intentions, with determination, with his blatant love for her. She responded in kind, pulling at his shirt with an intensity that left little room for misinterpretation. He straightened his legs, and she fell to her elbows, shaking the headboard against the posts, and she grinned as she chased after him, with the feeling of his hands on her waist, dipping back towards her hips. Hesitant, but more sure than he had been moments ago. 

“Did I frighten you?” James said, his eyes intense and so close to her own. “When I touch you like this, do I scare you?” 

“I’m not afraid,” Lily said, her eyes lowered, but a smile played at her lips. “Mm excited,” 

“Excited,” James breathed, his eyes boring holes into her own. “I make you excited.” 

Lily forced herself to meet his eyes, and he took her hand gently in his. “Did you mean it?” James said quickly, his words feeling thick in his mouth. His lips were swollen, eyes wide and intense and alert. “Yesterday, when you— when you got out of bed, and I was watching you change, did you mean it?” 

Lily played with the hem of her nightie, sitting back on her heels, a blush reddening her cheeks. 

“Did you dress… did you dress that way for me?” 

Lily mustered up all the courage she had and kissed him with intention, with purpose, with no room for misunderstanding. He responded in kind, flipping them suddenly, so she was beneath him. “Well, Evans,” he said with a saucy smile. “Now that I know that I can touch you, there’s all sorts of mischief we can get up to,” 

“Yeah?” Lily said, her heart beating nearly out of her ribcage. Her voice was breathy and thick, and she tried to belay her excitement with a steadiness of mind. But it wasn’t working, because his hand was on her hip, on her thigh, inches and centimetres higher than he had ever explored before. Her heart beat madly in her chest, and when he rested his hand on the crease of her hip, she reached for him instead. 

Her fingers were on the buttons of his pyjama shirt before she truly knew what she was doing. She undid one after another and kept her eyes trained on his shirt and the new inches of skin she was uncovering, hearing his breath quicken and thicken as she felt his eyes on her. When she pulled away the last button, he helped her pull it off, not particularly worried about where it landed. 

Now that he was bare, she took a moment to admire him, to slow down, to savour the moment. In the times she had seen him like this, it was accidental, circumstantial, not intentioned or prepared for. After a shower, that time he had slid in mud after Quidditch and pulled his jersey off in the Gryffindor Common Room. That time in the Hospital Wing in fourth year, the day after exams in sixth year when they went swimming in the loch. But this was different, this was for real, and they were finally both on the same page. They saw one another with intention. 

His breast heaved with breath, and his hands shook as they reached for her, and his gaze was raw, full of emotion. 

“Evans, I—,” 

From beyond the closed bedroom, the wards and the locked front room, she heard a rustling in their Common Room, and the high wailing of the proximity alarm sounded. And they sat in silence with wide eyes while Lily searched madly for her wand, for his wand, for something they could use to their defence. Where were they? Where had they gone? There was a heavy knock on their door, and she shivered in fear, the lust of the moment gone. 

“Stay here,” James said in the voice he hadn’t used since Moody kidnapped Amelia. He took careful steps towards his wardrobe and pulled his wand from his cardigan pocket before walking slowly to the door. 

“Who is it?” 

“Prongs!” A familiar voice rang out, and Lily collapsed to the sheets in relief. 

“_Sirius_—,” 

“James, we need you. Open the door!” 

“It has wards on it!” 

“Think I don’t know that? The damn thing is _shimmering_!” 

“Pads, that’s not helping,” 

“Why do all your mates,” Lily said from beneath his pillow. “Need to barge in just when things were getting interesting,” 

James didn’t respond, but his lips tightened as he undid one spell after another in rapid sequence. 

“Is that Evans?” 

“Well, she’s not in her room, is she Wormtail?” 

“For fucks sake!” James said, finally wrenching the door open to see his mates all wearing a similar guilty expression. “It is six AM on a Thursday morning. Why in the—,” 

“There’s been another attack,” Lupin said, and James stopped suddenly. “Another student is missing, exactly the same as Amelia,” 

“What?” 

“Who was it?” 

... 

“Lumos,” a voice whispered, walking with quick, quiet steps, keeping his wand firmly at his elbow, which was now out of sight to anyone but him. “Muffliato,”

It was the middle of the night, and the shadows of the castle hid him from prying eyes. But there was always the chance of him being discovered, and the compromising nature of his assignment dictated absolute secrecy. Without it, all was lost. 

He looked outside the castle windows as he climbed the stairs leading out from the dungeon, the moon was bright tonight, it’s beams stretched out across the stone of the floor like a lazy cat, putting his lank and exhausted face into sharp relief. He took a quick left, then up another set of stairs hidden behind a suit of armour. He reached the Entrance Hall in no time at all, then took another left to the marble staircase, intending to climb it, while not in secrecy, but for speed. It was already a quarter to four, according to his pocket watch. He was almost late, and his tardiness would be inexcusable. 

He wiped a bead of sweat off his temple and continued with increased speed, ducking into the shadows and behind tapestries to avoid suspicion. It was late enough that the Prefect rounds had been over for hours, and all that was left between here and his goal were the ghosts and a poltergeist. Once he reached the statue of the humpback witch, he tucked his wand into his pocket and recited the password Yaxley and Malfoy had taught him. Quickly, unremorsefully, he opened the secret passage and slid down the tunnel. 

The walk was long, but he had much to think about. His job was important, secret, but its success was everything to him. If he did it correctly, his entrance into the Death Eater ranks would be all but assured. When he knocked, the heavy cellar door to Honeydukes opened with a cloud of dust, and he climbed into the room with silent footsteps. He exited the building, careful to counteract the curfew alarm before walking down high street towards the edge of town. 

They had strict instruction on how to proceed, and Snape held his head high, satisfied that he had upheld his end of the bargain. 

There were many assembled when he arrived, all cloaked with hoods concealing identities. Many wore masks, some twisted and grotesque, others plain and unornamented. The gathering was immense, much larger than he had been led to believe, but he didn’t hesitate, dropping to his knees before his master without reservation. 

“Is it done?” the voice rang out, high and cold. Snape kept his gaze to his feet and tried to disguise the way his hands shook in fear. 

“The traitor is detained, my lord,” Snape confirmed.

“Excellent,” Lord Voldemort said, sweeping his arms towards the assembled ranks. “My friends, the Death Eater from near and far, assembled we are at last. And tonight, with Dumbledore gone and the castle unguarded, we are presented with an opportunity, ripe for the taking. May this day be remembered as the day the war began!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone for supporting me in this, the biggest and most complicated story I've ever written. I'd love to hear from you! If you have thoughts or headcanons or ideas to share, please don't hesitate to do so :)  
With love,  
V


	16. The Devil's Going to Set Me Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another student has gone missing, and the Marauders gather in Gryffindor tower to discuss their next move.

**I've busted bones, broken stones, looked the devil in the eye**

**I hope he's going to break these chains, oh yeah**

**The devil's going to make me a free man**

**The devil's going to set me free**

**The devil's going to make me a free man**

**The devil's going to set me free**

**-Broken Bones, Kaleo **

… 

James threw a jumper over to Lily while he rummaged in his chifforobe for trousers. They dressed in silence, and James experienced a rush of emotional vertigo at the sudden turn of events. He tried not to watch as Lily slipped on a pair of dungarees over his favourite jumper; his mind reeling with what he had said, had almost said. 

And guilt, too. Guilt at feeling this way when somebody was kidnapped, someone who so undeserving of their plight was taken and used for purposes not of their own. It made him sick to his stomach, and his eyes hardened as he considered the most likely assailants. 

Another attack in Hogsmeade was terrifying, to strike so close to Dumbledore's stronghold was foolhardy, dangerous. There were so many opportunities to be discovered; a sliver of moonlight could turn the tables for a reliable physical description. The ranks of the Death Eaters were swelling, and James was frustrated, irate at the complete lack of news.

After Crouch had told them that the Ministry was restricting the media, James couldn't believe it. There was something to be said to inhibit the actions of fear mongers, but this was a war, and people needed to know the facts. Most importantly, James needed to hear about the resistance efforts, weren't there people fighting back? Taking to the streets? Where were the freedom fighters in the host of the enemy? 

James started as Lily reached her arms around his torso and hugged him from behind. His expression softened, and he turned to face her with what he hoped to be a hopeful demeanour. 

It was as if he was looking at a different person. Lily had dressed, her hair twisted into a loose plait and face clear of outstanding emotion. The lust he had felt for her five minutes before was absent, unaccounted for. There were more important things to worry about than whatever it was that they were these days. 

"Whoever it was," James said. "Whoever was kidnapped if we know them or not, we're going to face it together, yeah?" 

"All your mates know we're sleeping together," Lily said bluntly.

James rubbed a hand over his forehead. "That's a—fair assessment," 

"But we haven't," Lily said, her eyes trained on his. "Not actually, not like the way they think we have," 

"I don't think it matters," James said, looking nearly as uncomfortable as she felt. But was he imagining it? He thought he might've heard a faint tone of disappointment in her voice. 

Lily slipped the strap of her dungarees further up her shoulder, and he unconsciously reached for her, brushing the curls away from her face. James touched her so often now; he had almost forgotten how precious it was, how important she had become to him. Lily looked shy in the small light of day, and he wished that they could always be as free with one another as they had been before. James wished he could kiss her in front of his mates without her shying away, hold her hand in the corridors where others could see. Was she ashamed? Was she ashamed of them together, in public? It was one thing to snog and claw each other's clothes off in private but in front of others? 

He tried to push his age-old feelings of inadequacy behind. Lily loved him, didn't she? Wasn't the reason she began sleeping in his bed to stave off his nightmares? Didn't she stand up for him to his mates? And hadn't she stayed? Certainly, for much longer than he had expected her to. It wasn't the first time the thought had crossed his mind, the very idea that he loved her more than she loved him. But didn't she know how much he wanted her, how often he thought of her, how the sight of her knicker-less would fuel his daydreams for years to come, climbing on top of him like that? Didn't she know? 

And now that he knew that she dressed that way for him? He was done for, stock and barrel. He loved her; God help him. 

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," James said, his expression set. "We're both consenting adults, who are both on the same page, ready to take things—" 

"Take things…" she said, and he took a deep breath. Simultaneously wanting to seduce her without disappointing, but wasn't the moment gone? Taken away like a sheet in the wind, as if it had never existed? He felt silly, standing in front of her without a shirt, and he wished that she would come back and touch him as she had before. He reached into his chifforobe for a cardigan, and—had he imagining it? Had she watched as he did so? 

"Yeah, to take things—" 

"We should get out there," she said, and his heart sank. "They're waiting for us," 

"Okay," James said, and he opened the door for her only to have her walk past him without looking up. 

The other Marauders were waiting in their Common Room in various states of dress. Remus looked tired, but much the same as he always did, Peter was slouched half-asleep in Lily's favourite armchair. Sirius was both clothed and pressed, his hair tousled and out of his face. He was smirking, and James rolled his eyes to feign the extent of his profound embarrassment. 

"Took you long enough," Sirius said with a smile. He looked over to gauge Lupin's reaction, but he responded with a stony glare and crossed arms. 

"It's hardly dawn," James said, pulling on a collared shirt and then a cardigan. Lily watched with a sort of delayed sense of time as James dressed, as he spoke to his mates. When his collar shifted, more than one love bite appeared red and agitated. Her breath caught, but his shirt settled, and the moment was lost. 

"So sleeping with Evans, eh?" 

"That's none of your business," James said shortly, trying not to follow her movements as Lily walked over to stand beside Remus. "Don't embarrass her," 

There was a tense silence, Sirius muffled a laugh into a cough after a swift elbow from Lupin. Peter looked lost, Sirius' leather jacket tossed over his jumper, but the seams were tight around the shoulders.

Lily crossed her arms and tried her damnedest not to look over to where James stood in front of his open bedroom door, looking as handsome and put together as she had ever seen him. She'd never tell him, but she liked his hair like this, mussed and uncombed. He looked more himself, more the boy and less the person he was trying to be but wasn't. "I'm assuming you woke us up for more than a chastisement," she said tartly, reaching down to pull on her chucks. 

"The kidnapping, it was Frank Longbottom," Lupin said, and James looked over at her with wide eyes, hands frozen around his half-done tie. 

"What?" 

"How do you know?" 

"His bed's empty," Sirius said, "a certain someone found it vacated and made a ruckus in the Common Room," 

"Who?" 

"Alice," Peter said blushing. "She was yelling and everything. Woke me up," 

"Him? He and—and her?" James said, his face wide and shocked. "They're together?" 

"I didn't know," she said, sitting down hard on the sofa, her eyes wide and shocked. "She never said," 

"Course she did," Sirius said, "she was as black and white as you please if you paid attention." 

"Where are the rest of the girls?" 

"We thought we'd find you first," Lupin said. "They're in Gryffindor Tower; Mars left to get McGonagall," 

"Off we go then," James said, perhaps louder than intended. Sirius shrugged and opened the door for his friends. 

…

When they arrived, Gryffindor tower was deserted. The fires had been stoked, but the air was cold and still, and Lily shivered despite James' jumper. The soft wool smelled like him, and Lily tried to push back her irritation at her behaviour. She was still using him to her advantage, but she didn't quite know how to rid herself of him; he loved her, she was sure of it. But was this obsession love? Were these feelings of inadequacy matched and defeated when she slept in his arms, in his bed? Did she think that she was worth more, entitled to his happiness if she stayed with him? 

Where did that leave her? Was she using James to avoid her feelings about Petunia? About Severus? Was that all James was to her? She hated the thought that it could be true, that her feelings towards him were a cover-up, a falsehood. But were they? Could she lie to herself about how she felt about him, about any of this? A war was coming, that much was sure, and for God's sake, Frank was missing. There was no room for sentimentality when her friends needed her. 

Alice appeared from the staircase—she was dishevelled, her big brown eyes brimming with tears. Lily looked up, and her heart broke. Without consideration for anything else, Lily ran to her. 

"Darling, what happened?" Lily asked, pulling her friend into her arms. 

"Frank is—he's, he's gone!" 

"Oh, Alice," Lily said, rubbing her back consolingly. But Alice was shaking, and her breath began turning hysterical. With more strength of mind than she thought she had, Lily led her friend past the stares of her fellow Gryffindors into her old dormitory. Alice took her hand when she offered it, and when Lily sat down on the edge of her old bed, Alice slumped down beside her. 

"I'm so sorry," Lily said, and Alice sniffed, slumping against her shoulder. Lily didn't expect her friend to respond. Alice was perhaps more open with her feelings than the other girls in her old dormitory. Still, blatant love confessions were outside of the norm. Lily wanted Alice to know that she was there for her, but her own tangled thoughts made it difficult to be fully present. So she maintained her silence in the hopes that Alice would fill it. 

"It was like—like everything was fine one minute," Alice said, her foot tapping insistently. Lily nodded, looking across the room but listening with all her might. "We had agreed to meet in that abandoned Charms classroom since all his mates were busy, and I came, and—and he wasn't there! I was panicking, did he not want me after all? Was all of it a ruse? I didn't know what to think, so I came—I came back here to see if he had left, and he was gone!" 

"Did his dorm mates see anything?" Lily asked. 

"No, they didn't see anything! I even asked Robin to see if she knew anything, but she was still upset 'cause Frank had just broken it off with her—"

"They broke up?" 

"Does it matter?" Alice said through sobs, leaning forward on her palms. "He's missing!"

"Mars is getting McGonagall; we're gonna find him, alright?" Lily said, noticing James and the rest at the door for the first time. "Just like we found Amelia," 

"After they hurt her!"

"Frank's tough," James said, and Alice started, turning towards his voice. "We'll find him; he'll just have to hold on until we do," 

Alice looked up and sniffed, wiping her nose and steadying her breath. "You're right," she said, hiccoughing as she stood and wiped her eyes. "Let's find Mary, see if she or Tony have any clues. They—they seemed to know what they were doing last time," 

"I already found them," Sirius said, pointing his thumb to the left. "They're waiting in the Common Room," 

"Okay," Alice said, and Lily took her hand consolingly. Lily's mind swam with confusion, and not quite panic but something close to it. If students were going missing, being kidnapped, was Hogwarts going to reopen in the New Year? What if they couldn't find him? What if there was no happy ending waiting for Frank at the end of all of this? It had already been hours, was there any hope left for him? 

She tried to push back the guilt that one of her best friends had been seeing somebody, and she had no idea. She felt guilty for not being there for her friends, for being occupied with other things and not seeing the facts right in front of her. Alice sniffed, and Lily offered her James' handkerchief from the pocket of her cardigan, which she took gratefully before leaving her old dormitory behind. 

…

Sirius walked out of the girls' dormitory before the rest of them, reaffirming that the jinx they had placed against the stairs upon entry was still in place. Alice was still sniffling, but Sirius' gaze was torn between Lily and James, fixated on the clasped hands between them. He still wasn't entirely sure what he and the others had walked in on that morning, nor was he wholly convinced on their compatibility even with what Lily had told him. It all felt so unlike James, staying with one girl, living with her, loving her, it felt outside of his personality. He was a flirt, a tease, a good time and a best mate. He wasn't sure what to make of James Potter the boyfriend. Nor was he sure on the James Potter who had chosen to live with Evans over him, especially now that they weren't under any direction to do so. 

Mary and Tony were there, dressed and alert, and both stood as Sirius and the others came down the staircase together. McGonagall was there as well, and Marlene clambered through the portrait hole after her. The few Gryffindors assembled stopped what they were doing to look up, their gaze torn between the unusual sight of their Head of House in the Common Room and the still sniffling Alice. 

"Is it true, professor?" Lily said. 

McGonagall nodded solemnly, and Sirius was bemused at the sight of his professor in a tartan dressing gown and bed shoes. He had trouble keeping a smirk off his face until Remus nudged him and gently shook his head. 

"I have just spoken with Professor Dumbledore," she said. "And the Aurors are currently searching for Mr. Longbottom, as are the teachers. It is still early; I will not arouse panic over a matter most likely quickly settled." 

Sirius slipped his wand out of the sleeve of his jacket and held it tightly in his fist, firm in the belief that his sleeve hid the tightness of his form. If Remus noticed, he said nothing, but Sirius could feel Remus' hand tugging on the side of his jacket and the infinitesimal movement towards him. Sirius tried to be comforted by him, but he was distracted, disorientated. It was difficult for Sirius to grasp the gravitas of the situation without being amused by the details. Frank Longbottom as a person meant very little to him, and if it wasn't for Alice crying beside him, he didn't think that it would've bothered him enough to worry about it.

"Professor Dumbledore is currently questioning Mr. Crouch," McGonagall said crisply. "He was discovered late last night in a corridor off of the Entrance Hall having been detained against his will for some time." 

James looked over, and Sirius could feel his best mate's eyes on him. McGonagall looked over suspiciously, but Sirius maintained a blank expression if only to assuage his guilt in the matter. 

Crouch's sudden appearance in the bowels of the castle had scared Sirius perhaps more than he put on. He was tipsy, but the company was relaxing and even though it had been years since they'd finished the map, showing Evans the secret passages still gave him a delayed sense of accomplishment. Evans was stuck, but Sirius had the answer, a solution to the problem. It wasn't much, but he liked having people to take care of. 

Crouch had come upon them so suddenly, Sirius hadn't time to do more than draw his wand and push Evans behind him. It didn't matter who it was, anyone hiding in the dark this late at night deserved a hex or two for their troubles. Sirius had hesitated, a second, maybe more, and his hesitation had almost cost him dearly. Certainly more than a dozen curses and hexes crossed his mind, but Sirius wavered over hexing someone he couldn't see. It wasn't cowardice, he thought sternly. It was self-defence, taking care of Evans, and he tried to push back his fear and do what needed to be done despite the consequences. If Lily had had any reservations, she hadn't shared them with him. He remembered pulling her beside him, urging her to run faster, to push forward away from whoever Crouch had become. That time, he hadn't hesitated to cast a full body bind, and the solid thunk of a body hitting the flagstones pulled a half-smile to his lips, as did the hexes he layered on top. It may not have worked on Moody forever, but this was an older man, and they only needed five minutes. 

Sirius tried to hide how shaky his hands were from her, how scared he had been. His fear was unimportant, she needed not to be found here, and Sirius wasn't keen on being left in an abandoned corridor with a deranged Ministry official either. Their walk up to the sixth floor was tense, and his aloofness might've come across as flippant, offhand, but it wasn't. Sirius was terrified, what would James think of him if he had let Lily Evans get hurt on his watch? 

And it all cycled back, did it not, to that night James had chosen Evans over him. To when he and Remus and Marlene had slinked off into the shadows to follow a flipped coat sleeve in the dark, a scuffle of a shoe on uneven stones. In that moment, and perhaps forever after, Sirius had followed his instincts and kept Evans behind him. Not because she wasn't able to fight (he had been on the receiving end of more than one of her jinxes over the years) but because she _mattered_ to James. She was more than just Evans now; she was James' entire future and everything it represented. As much as Sirius wanted to deny it, Lily was the long game for James, and the end was very nearly in sight. 

McGonagall told them (with a shaky, but stern expression) that they were to stay put and await further instructions. 

Sirius looked over to where James and Lily were comforting Alice but caught Marlene's eye as he looked away. Marlene was exhausted, he thought, but that firm tilt in her expression spurred Sirius to pocket the map and slink out of the Common Room before the others could notice he was gone. 

… 

Breakfast came and went, and as the Gryffindor's woke up and over the next few hours, an uncomfortably familiar situation awaited them. House-elves held trays of sausage and eggs aloft, and students gathered and whispered in groups of three and four across the Common Room. Snow had begun to fall, and when the announcement was made that classes were cancelled until Frank was found, books were retrieved, and a quiet air of studying began that was due to last until the end of the day. 

It was difficult to focus on the severity of the situation with no news, Remus thought, absentmindedly moving his rook. Evidently, the piece knew better and stubbornly refused to advance until Remus held it steady. Nonetheless, James' queen took it, and Remus's mind continued to wander. It was late in the term, nearly halfway through December. If they didn't find Frank soon, what would happen in the New Year? Could Hogwarts even open if students continued to go missing without explanation? 

Remus knew that James was considering using a truth serum on Amelia to find out more about her assailant, but Remus wasn't sure what it would accomplish. Moody had kidnapped her by accident, he already had the reputation of a quick wand hand, and it wasn't outside of his character to act the way that he did. But it was the details that bothered him. Why was she out so late? Why was she alone? Why had she left without telling her friends where she was going and come back with no explanation? He could see the appeal in Veritaserum, but as skilled as a potioneer as Lily was, it was one of the hardest potions to make. And it wasn't as if they could just buy it, who would sell the most potent truth serum to underaged students? 

No, he thought. There has to be another way. 

Peter and the others were playing gobstones while Lily and the other girls tried to comfort Alice. McGonagall had been by once to conference with Lily and James, but by James' expression and crossed arms; the news was moot. He was simply gone, James had told them, missing without a trace. There was nothing to suggest that Frank was taken in a struggle, no witnesses to his abduction, no evidence to be found anywhere in the castle. His parents had been notified and were due to arrive later that day.

Remus couldn't help noticing the skittish way that Lily and James were with one another. When McGonagall spoke to them, their body language was loose and relaxed, more comfortable with one another subconsciously than otherwise. James traced circles in his arm like he usually did, and Lily moved to rest her hand on his lower back before thinking twice about it and lowering it into her pocket instead. She was wearing James' cardigan, his favourite one, and the soft wool was too large on her already petite frame. Remus knew that he and the others had caught them in a compromising position earlier, but Remus hadn't been aware that things had already progressed to a physical level. James wasn't one to sleep with a girl he didn't have strong feelings for, and it seemed out of character for both of them to be moving so quickly. He supposed it could've been a misunderstanding, but he didn't think so. Lily looked far too embarrassed for them to have been caught discussing Herbology. 

James looked tousled too, his hair sticking up in all directions, shirtless with more than one suspicious bruise dotting his neck. Lily was watching him, salivating more like, as he dressed, and Remus smiled. He was happy for them; honestly, he was. Remus had never been particularly focused or driven towards romantic inclinations, but his friends deserved to be happy. He hoped that they were honest with one another, and if that morning was anything to go by, things were progressing in that direction at the very least. 

Remus had watched as Sirius left Gryffindor tower in the confusion following McGonagall's news. He wasn't surprised; frankly he was more surprised that James hadn't followed him. Sirius must've taken the map, Remus thought with a sigh. There wouldn't be a way to find him if he wasn't trying to be found, and the castle was too big for a thorough search. A quiet part of Remus' mind admired Sirius for his boldness, but it was dangerous, foolhardy. Aurors and teachers were in the fifth hour of searching, and any student they found would be treated with suspicion. Sirius was too smart to get caught, but it still frightened him. 

He wasn't sure what he and Sirius were these days, it had never been labelled or spoken about, but they were something, if not only to be categorized as more than nothing. Remus knew that Sirius had a rocky relationship with acceptance, especially after what had happened with Regulus and his parents. It was hard to feel loved— Remus knew— when your own family looked on with suspicion and ignorance. Remus couldn't claim any deference towards a harmonious relationship with his own parents, their's was civil if not a little cool. He had spent his Christmases and summers at the Potter mansion for years. Remus hoped beyond all hope that whatever wedge had been driven between James and Sirius would find a resolution before term ended. And if it didn't, Remus thought with a sigh, he would most likely stay behind and keep Sirius company. He hoped it wouldn't come to that, but he wouldn't condemn his best mate to spend his last Christmas at Hogwarts alone. 

McGonagall had come twice since breakfast to speak to James and Lily alone. Afterwards, they had talked about it in whispers, but there was no news, no clues, all trace of Frank Longbottom's whereabouts seemed to have disappeared. Remus knew that James wanted to go after Sirius, but things were different now. The stakes were higher, and Dumbledore had personally requested that they stay put. 

So they did, and the hours slid by without change. Snow had begun to fall, and the heavy flakes drifted through thin sunlight, casting a warm glow on the castle. By the time dinner rolled around, it was clear that no more news would arrive before morning, and James and Lily settled in for a night in their old dormitories. Remus didn't think that they had slept together if James' longing stares towards Lily's retreating form on the girls' staircase was anything to go by. James had fancied Lily forever, but that love had changed from a conquest to a love match over the last year. James didn't want Lily because he wanted to prove something, he wanted her because he loved her. Love suited James, and Remus figured that he'd be in for a long night without her. 

It was past eleven by the time he and Peter turned in, leaving James alone by the hearth. He looked contemplative, not particularly unhappy, but pensive, deep in thought. Remus knew better than to coax a reasonable sleep schedule out of him, and after ruffling his hair, left for their dormitory. 

… 

It was long past midnight, and several masked figures swept through the upper floors of Hogwarts castle under utmost secrecy. A figure hovered above them, bound and gagged and invisible, and their footsteps echoed through the empty corridors. The middle figure, somewhat more stooped than the others, waved a wand from beneath their robes, and a previously unseen door creaked open before them. The interior was dank and dark, cobwebs and dust hanging from the beams with snow blowing through the cracks in the casements. They lowered their captive with perhaps less grace than was permitted, and he woke the disillusionment charm breaking suddenly. His captives allowed a cough and belligerent stream of nonsense before binding him to a pillar, three wands pointed at his chest. 

Frank Longbottom was bloodied and bruised, a cut above his left eyebrow spilled blood into his eye and down his cheek. His robes were torn and muddy, the hem caked in dirty snow. But despite all of this, he faced his captives with a stern expression and defiant posture, standing tall and proud. 

"You'll get nothing out of me," Frank said boldly, "I won't speak, I won't tell you anything!" 

"So you say now," the shortest of the trio snarled, flicking Frank's scruffy adolescent beard with the tip of his wand. Frank lunged, knocking the wand aside. The two other captors took a step forward, but Frank remained strong and determined. 

"So sure," another said, his voice slow and smooth and familiar. "And yet, your position might change once the stakes are revealed." 

"You have nothing on me," Frank said. 

"Oh, is that so?" he continued, raising his wand and circling Frank. His mask was loose against his face, and his voice was so familiar that Frank recognized it, but couldn't quite place it. Despite his injuries, Frank stood taller and looked down at this coward of a man with the most loathing he could muster. "You must think yourself invincible to still believe that help is coming, Longbottom. It's been hours, Dumbledore's not coming to save you this time. Tell us what we need to know, and we'll set you free," 

"Simple as that, eh?" 

"It couldn't be simpler," he confirmed. "You'll remain our captive until you're starving and wretched until you speak that which you know. We both know that you have information, Longbottom. Information about the Order of the Phoenix," 

"The what?" Frank said impulsively, and the trio laughed, a sickening high pitched wail that echoed throughout the room. Frank shivered, both in fear and in the cold. The temperature was dropping, and Frank was defenceless and very alone. He wished Alice was here, fuck it; he wished _anybody_ was here. 

"Come on, Longbottom, we don't have all night," the last figure said. "Where are they meeting? Who is their leader? What are their numbers?" 

"I don't know anything!" Frank repeated desperately, watching the first figure's wand raise in an undeniable gesture. "I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" 

"CRUCIO!" he shouted, and Frank's world descended into blinding pain, all else receded except for the cold and the dark and the knowledge that nobody was ever going to find him; Frank was going to die here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, two things: one being that this song by Kaleo is so incredibly perfect for this scene, I just couldn’t handle it. I’ve had the intricacies of the Death Eater plot solidified for a couple of weeks now, and UGH, the parallels between corporate nepotism and the Death Eaters are appalling. Also, the line devil’s gonna set me free is wonderfully concise for how Voldemort must’ve acted in the first war. Because I couldn’t figure it out, other than those who would sign up for no other reason than to take their racist and problematic ideals out on, why would you become a Death Eater in the first place? What’s in it for you?   
It’s mentioned by Malfoy (?) in one of the later books that one does not simply un-become a Death Eater, once you sign up, you’re in for good. So what makes this offer appealing?  
It can’t be the money, nor could it really be the infamy of calling yourself a Death Eater, because one of the main points is personal anonymity to the other Death Eaters. It could be tied to social standing, but most of these landed families are old money, and wouldn’t need the leg up.   
And then there are people like Regulus Black, and to another extent Snape, who by all intents and purposes signed up right after Hogwarts (or maybe even before) for reasons that are obligatory at first, but later become a vehicle by which to administer their own ideals.   
Also, it’s officially the middle of December now, so feel free to listen to Christmas music while you read. It certainly made it more wonderful for me.  
Much love,   
V


	17. When All the Birds Have Fled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily and James have a conversation about the changing sands of their relationship, and Sirius and James follow a new lead on Frank's disappearance.

_ **December 15th, 1977 ** _

...

Lily walked past her sleeping friends with quiet footsteps, taking care to avoid the creaking floorboards. It was late, long after midnight, and the falling snow and wailing wind muffled the sound of her feet. She opened the door, anticipating one of her friends to wake, but other than the gentle crackling of the stove and the storm outside, her old dormitory was still. Lily reached for her dressing gown and toed on her slippers before shutting the door with a quiet click. She had spent the last three hours lying awake to her dormitory mate’s breathing, but she wasn’t able to quiet her mind. The turbulent nature of that morning buttressed with the uncertainty of the daylight hours made for restless bedfellows. It was also the first night in over two weeks that she hadn’t slept with James, and she hadn’t realized how much she needed his gentle reassurance to fall asleep. 

Lily had brought a book with her, one of the few things she had been able to retrieve from their dormitory before being confined to Gryffindor Tower. A tissue marked the place where James had read last, and she stole down the stairs intending for stillness.

Snow had fallen heavily all day, and she smiled at the thick flakes swirling past the corridor windows. Lily had initially intended to lay claim to an old haunt of hers—a nook beside the window in the stairwell. But it offered no comfort, and the stairway was cold and still in the moonlight. The warm fires of the Common Room would be a cozier place to rest. 

As she walked down the stairs, Lily was surprised to see someone else sitting in her favourite spot beside the hearth. She could only see a head and shoulders, but the tousled hair and familiar posture warmed her heart. 

James was hard at work; the coffee table was littered with loose parchment and open books, his favourite griffin feather quill sat upright in a pot of ink. He didn’t seem to notice her until Lily flopped down beside him, setting her book down and settling in. 

“Jesus, Evans,” James said, his eyes wide with surprise. “How long have you been hiding in the dark for?” 

“I wasn’t hiding,” she said, moving to rest her legs on James’ lap. He grinned despite himself and leant back comfortably, his notes forgotten. “I just couldn’t sleep,” 

“Me neither, if you couldn’t tell,” James said, gesturing to his work with a chuckle. “I’m still working on Amelia’ disappearance, and now Frank’s. I found some new leads I’m working on,” 

“Hm,” Lily said, pulling her glasses on and taking a loose bit of parchment in hand. “Do you want some help?” 

“I think I’d like the company more,” James said. 

They sat in silence for a minute or two, the stillness not uncomfortable or unwelcome. James pulled a blanket from the sofa back and tucked it over the two of them, the bright red wool soft against his skin. He picked up the fringe and flicked it towards her, the tassel catching her cheek and making her laugh. He loved this, having this with her. It was so easy, so complimentary. He wished that he always knew how to make her laugh.

The wind howled in the flue, but James pulled in closer, and Lily laid back against his chest, comfortable in the stillness. 

“It’s seems like a lifetime since we were here last,” Lily said, fixing her eyes on the falling snow. The wind had died down, but the snow was falling heavily, thick flakes drifting on the rooftops and window ledges. She had pulled her hair over her shoulder, and a long interrupted column of her neck distracted James from her initial inquiry. She was calm, but something had changed in her. Something near unperceivable, but for as long as James had known her, it was as if she had settled further into her skin. She was relaxed and still, more herself than he had ever seen her. Lily had spent most of that afternoon with her friends, comforting Alice, talking and laughing with one another. James had watched her— not altogether conscious he was doing so—but she didn’t need him. It wasn’t as if she didn’t care about him or want him, but she was in and of herself complete. Lily needed her friends, female company, and the Marauders needed him. 

James had spent the afternoon with Peter and Lupin, playing chess, eating sweets, wondering aloud where Sirius was. James felt pulled to him, and despite their recent falling out, Sirius was still his best mate, and as much as he hated it, he loved him. Sirius’ hopes and dreams had been imprinted on James, and he felt Sirius’ anger and frustration, a lifetime of insufficient parental affection. Looking over at his friends, James wondered how he ever could’ve fought with Sirius, what had struck him that what he had done—subtle and insignificant at the time, sure—had wounded Sirius beyond what he was capable of repairing. Sirius didn’t deserve it, any of it. Sirius didn’t deserve his shit, his self-loathing and lack of confidence, Sirius deserved James’ full self, and being his best mate wasn’t a good enough excuse to give nothing but his leftovers. And Lily too, James thought. She didn’t deserve anything less than somebody who was honest with themselves. As much as he tried, James couldn’t be the person they wanted him to be, he could only be himself and hope that they loved him deeply enough not to care. He wanted to be so fully himself that there was no doubt that he loved his friends without reservation because he had loved himself first. And as much as he hated it, he needed to apologize to Sirius. 

He was utterly, imperfectly human— and James’ many flaws were no mystery to him. There were enough faults, James thought, and he had no business dwelling on them. He might have hair that stuck up on end, lanky limbs, a voice too loud for his own good. But what did it matter? It was who he was, flawed and personable and _himself_. There were no others like him, he was singular unto himself. 

It was his downfall, thinking that he was lesser and insignificant when he had no business thinking so. He might feel that he was unimportant to the world, woefully negligible in the grand scheme of things, and he’d be right. But was there any point? Why push towards greatness when an open grave was what awaited him? What was the end goal, if not happiness and satisfaction with the people he loved? 

James knew that his parents expected great things of him, but loving gently and living loudly was just as important. Living every day like it was his last, not leaving anything behind and unsaid. Lily had told him once that tomorrow was promised to no one, and she was right. His parents were older, and as much as they tried to downplay it, their days were numbered. They wouldn’t be around forever, and their goals and aspirations and dreams would die with them. 

James’ father had held off selling his business for years, hoping for a child, perhaps, to take up the mantle in his place. It wasn’t like his parents discouraged his dreams, they’d love him just the same no matter what it was he did with his time. But he wanted to make them proud, just the same. James wanted to prove that he was worth something, that his talents weren’t going to waste, that he would do something worthwhile with his life. For years, he had entertained the suggestions of going professional with Quidditch, playing for England in the World Cup. His dad had bought him his first broom for his first birthday, he couldn’t imagine life without flying. But there was the war to think about, and with Lily leaning against him and the storm blowing, a future other than Voldemort seemed improbable, impossible. Was there a life for them to look forward to once this mess was over with? 

“It has been a lifetime,” James confirmed, thinking just the same. The last time they had sat on this sofa together…it felt like years ago. He still remembered how her lips trembled against his own, how she had sighed into his smile, the feeling of her so close against him. James had missed her last night. His bed felt so empty without her in it, and he knew that it hadn’t been that long, and she might feel differently but had she missed him too? 

Lily leant further into his side, pulling the blanket up to her chin. James wished that he could be as calm as she was, but whenever she sat next to him, his pulse raced, and he couldn’t help it—he reached for her, pulling her closer to him. James didn’t want to be possessive, but as much as she needed her friends and the Marauders needed him, James wanted her too. Not necessarily to himself, but close at hand. She had such a calming effect on him. 

She was wearing her nightie under her quilted dressing gown, and the memory of his hand on her hip flooded his mind. She had been so confident and suave like it was intentional like she had planned for James to find her like—like that, bare and wanting. Waiting for him to come closer, to touch her in places he had only thought about. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it, loving her in that way, but she hadn’t agreed, hadn’t told him in so many words that this was what she wanted. He had wanted to, oh, he wished he could be spontaneous and romantic, because she did want it, didn’t she? Couldn’t she tell, didn’t she know how much he loved her? 

All of James’ life, the facts and nuances of his existence were black and white, good and evil, right and wrong. The rulebook had been set, and James was nothing if not consistent. He had fought with Snape and the Slytherins for years, but not for the reasons people thought they did. They took jinxes and curses too far; they fought with younger kids and believed in blood purity and the overarching rights of Purebloods. They had never gone beyond what was acceptable, less than they deserved, surely. It had served him well, but life wasn’t black and white. A myriad of colours had burst into his life, and good wasn’t all that distinguishable from evil, not anymore. Good people did evil things in good faith, and a redemption story was possible with any of those he had faced. His judgement was fallible, James wasn’t the best man for every job, and not every fight needed him at the helm. James knew that Dumbledore was looking to him to set the example, and even though he hated it, he had stayed put. He had chosen to comfort his friends and watch out for Lily when he’d rather be out, looking for Frank. And since Sirius had taken the Map, they would have no advantage over the Aurors in locating him anyway. 

One of the only things keeping him from tearing the Common Room apart to search for Frank was Lily’s steady hand on his thigh. That whole day, while they were comforting Alice or eating the food the house-elves brought up, she had stayed beside him. His personal relationship with Frank was sparse. He had been Gryffindor’s keeper for three years, they had been on the same Gobstones team in second year, and they had duelled more than once in Duelling Club. But Frank was steady, steadier than any of the Marauders, he had an easy-going personality and was a good man to have around. James knew that the news that Frank was dating Alice troubled Lily, and he hated that part of the reason she hadn’t known was because she was living with him and not with her dorm mates. 

As darkness fell and the shadows deepened, students drifted off to bed, and James settled in to study. All of the anxious energy from the day had left him with jitters and an uneasy restlessness that he couldn’t shake. He was caught up with his homework, and his mind drifted to the conversations he had had with Lily about Crouch. Something about his sudden and shocking reappearance in the bowels of the castle didn’t sit right with James. It seemed uncharacteristic and suspicious that he was seemingly captured and left to rot. How had he found himself there? What did he have to do (if anything) with Moody and Amelia’s disappearance? Was he hiding something? James wished it was as easy to pour a vile of Veritiserum down the codger’s throat and call it a day. 

And as much as he hated it, he knew that it wasn’t the answer, Dumbledore had trusted them to come to a conclusion about all of this, and James wished that he had more to offer. Even his most barmy daydreams hashing and rehashing the night they found Amelia in the Room of Requirement yielded little in the way of answers. There were simply too many unknowns. She might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, she might’ve seen something she ought not to have. James knew first hand that a misplaced memory charm had a habit of ricocheting, doing more harm to yourself than to your assailant if improperly cast. 

James knew that Dumbledore had a Pensieve, a stone basin intended to re-live past memories. He didn’t want to bother Amelia, he knew that she was still confused and disturbed by her lack of memories, and he didn’t want to make it worse. James had been putting off asking her for weeks, afraid that she would reject him, and they’d be worse off. He couldn’t imagine how traumatic it must’ve been to be bound and gagged, taken away from her friends, and for what? What had it accomplished? Whatever had happened before James and the others had rescued her was as much of a mystery to her as to anybody else. 

“I missed you,” Lily said suddenly, startling James out of his thoughts. “Last night, I looked for you in my sleep, but you weren’t there.” 

James smiled sadly. “You needed to be there for Alice,” 

“You wouldn’t go back to our dormitory if you had the chance?” 

“Of course I would,” James said. “But we have to be here too. I distinctly remember that it was you who told me that we couldn’t be an island,” 

Lily looked ahead, her eyes sparkling in the firelight. “Alice is hurting, Frank meant more to her than I realized.” She took a deep breath, facing him with a grim expression. “She’s asleep, all of them are. I ended up giving her something of Moony’s to help her sleep.” 

James hoped she didn’t finish her thought. He knew enough about missing person cases to understand that the first few hours were critical, and so far as they knew, there was no trace of Frank anywhere. He had disappeared, and if Sirius knew where he was, he wasn’t offering any information. 

“They’ll find him,” Lily said firmly as if she knew his thoughts. “They have to,” 

“Would you go out and look for him?” James asked. “If Dumbledore and McGonagall hadn’t ordered us to stay put?” 

“Of course I would,” Lily said, a faint tone of indignation in her voice. “Frank’s innocent, he deserves to be found, to be happy; however he wishes it. It’s the right thing to do, I just hate—” Lily sighed, leaning forward onto her elbows. “I hate being stuck here, I know we have to set the example, and all that, but I’m frustrated, angry, even, at Dumbledore for keeping us here.” 

James nodded, “Tomorrow, we’ll do it, okay? Even if we’re not given permission,” 

Lily smiled, her face wan with deep shadows. She looked older than seventeen as if the worries of their situation were squared on her shoulders alone. “Sure,” Lily said, even though her voice was thin and brittle. She looked more upset than James could understand. But he couldn’t imagine what had made her this way. She didn’t care about Frank like—like that, did she? 

“Are we okay?” She said quietly, fiddling with the hem of her dressing gown. 

“Why wouldn’t we be okay?” James asked, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion. 

“After this morning,” Lily said, fighting to meet his eye. “I know we haven’t talked about it—but did you, did you like it? What we did, I know it’s further than we had gone before. Did I go too—_mmpf_,” 

James kissed her soundly, running his fingers through her loose plait, hovering on his forearms on top of her. He tried to pour his determination, his apologies for earlier hesitancy and immense admiration for her into his kiss, framing her face with his hands. She smiled, openly, with abandon—happy and content. She chased after him, tangling her fingers in his curls and pulling him closer to her, wrapping a knee around his leg to brace herself. James tried to be gentle, but she was so close; she had chosen to be here with him, kissing him like this. She had wanted to share this moment with him, and he wasn’t about to let it go to waste. 

She leant back against the cushions, breathing heavily against his shoulder. James kissed the column of her neck, the sensitive skin behind her ear, and she scrunched her throat and laughed. 

“Shh!” He chastised, kissing her with a broad smile on his lips. “We’re not as alone as we usually are,” 

Lily moved to sit up on her elbows, and James hovered above her, a knee on each side of her hips. “I missed you, all curled around me last night,” 

“I missed you too,” James confessed, “I couldn’t fall asleep without you. James tried to keep the truth of his statement out of his eyes. The real reason he missed her was more than just her presence, but her warmth, the reality that she had chosen to stay with him rather than her mates. The smell of her hair, the softness of her skin…James was growing fond of having her close. 

“We could, y’ know, stay here,” Lily said, scooting over so there was room beside her on the sofa. “Compromise,” 

“I like the way you think,” James said, waiting for her to shift before resting beside her, both of their heads resting on the same pillow. Despite his restlessness, James fell asleep in minutes; his face tucked in the crook of her neck with his arms pulling her close. 

… 

It felt as if only minutes had passed before James woke to a hand shaking his shoulder urgently. It was still dark—the fire had died to embers long ago— and he fumbled on the coffee table for his glasses before the blurry face of Sirius appeared, staring down at him. 

“Jesus, Pads,” James whispered, rubbing his eyes and falling back into his pillow, against Lily’s still sleeping form. “It’s early,” 

“I found a lead about Frank,” Sirius said bluntly, dressed and alert and annoyed. “If you’re still interested,” 

“Course I’m interested,” James grumbled, sitting up and pulling his legs out from under the blanket. Lily was still fast asleep, and James wondered how Sirius felt about finding him like this, asleep with Evans in the Common Room. He moved to kiss her but hesitated at the last minute—trying to pass it off as searching for his wand, but Sirius snorted and leant against the mantle as James sat up. 

“Dress warmly,” Sirius said. “I found Snape and Regulus in Hogsmeade,” 

“What does that have to do with Frank?” 

“God, you are dense in the mornings, aren’t you?” Sirius said, reaching into his bag and pulling out a scarf, winding it around his neck. “We need to hurry,” 

James threw on a pair of trousers and the jumper he had worn the day before while Sirius waited in the Common Room. Lily was still asleep, but James hated to leave her like this; without a note, without an explanation. He tore off a piece of parchment and scribbled out an apology, tucking it into her open palm before crawling through the portrait hole. 

They took a detour back to the Head’s dormitory for the cloak, and Sirius waited outside while James rummaged through his trunk. Lily’s discarded nightie was lying across his unmade bed, and James paused, took a second to run his fingers over the soft satin before shaking his head and reaching for his dad’s old cloak. 

Sirius led him down a familiar path, and when he murmured the password into the humped back witch on the third floor, James jumped down the narrow passage without question. They slid down the slide and emerged into the earth lined path they had crossed many times over the years. 

“You think Snape got out through here?” James asked, lighting the tip of his wand and taking the lead in the darkness. 

“Only logical exit,” Sirius said with a shrug. “I spent most of the night down here waiting for them to return. 

“From what?” 

“God knows,” Sirius said. 

They walked in silence for longer than what was comfortable. James tried to think of something to say, something anything to fill the emptiness that sat between them. The air was thick with it. James was torn between thoughts that finally they were getting past this…whatever it was that stood between them. James didn’t feel as if he had done anything worth a reaction to this scale, and he wanted to say something, but what? What could he say to heal a rift this thorough, this enormous? Stick to the facts, James thought. Stay close to this moment, and don’t ask for more than you bargained for. Sirius was complicated, but a good man for a crisis. 

“Why did you leave yesterday?” James asked. 

There was quiet for a minute or two, and in the faint light of the tunnel, it was difficult to see his expression. Sirius’ wand was held out in front of him, forever onto the next thing. Not staying with the present, but looking forever onward. James had respected him for it, the future was the best he could hope for when today was difficult and the past impossible. There had been so many times when James wished he had said something, anything to prove that he was going to be there for Sirius, no matter what. They were brothers until the end, but would Sirius forgive him after all that had happened? 

“Why didn’t you follow?” Sirius said, his expression uncharacteristically unguarded. James realized, maybe for the first time, that the hurt that he had inflicted had been more profound than he realized. 

“I didn’t know you wanted me to,” James said. 

“Hmpf,” Sirius said, switching hands and tucking the other deep into his pocket. As they had walked, the temperature had dropped steadily—not quick enough to notice immediately, but James followed Sirius and switched wand hands, tucking the other deep into his pocket. Ice had melted and frozen in rivulets on the tunnel walls, and the air condensed and froze, the air hanging heavy and cold. 

“Why didn’t you get the others?” James whispered. 

Sirius rolled his eyes. “You’re the quickest with a wand, and we need to move quickly. Moons and Pete are still sleeping,” 

“So was I,” James said, but if anything, it only led to Sirius pick up the pace. 

They made it to the cellar door of Honeyduke’s in good time, and after taking a peek upstairs, motioned for James to pull the cloak out of his pocket and throw it over their shoulders. 

The two of them huddled behind a tower of barrels and listened for movement. James knew that the shops were closed, but never before had he seen it so empty—dust and silence filled the air, and they would have to be more careful to escape detection. There was no telling how far ahead of them Snape was, and James hadn’t asked if Sirius had news on their proximity. He looked over to gauge his reaction, but he was still, guarded. And when he rose to move, James hastened to follow. 

The door to the sweetshop was open and creaked as they passed it. 

“God, this is desolate,” James whispered, and Sirius nodded, walking down the high street with careful precision. James had had his father’s cloak since his first year at Hogwarts, but this feeling of invisibility in broad daylight was still disconcerting. Sirius stayed to the shadows, ducking between buildings to disguise their feet beneath the cloak and James followed by instinct. If it was working, James had no idea. They had seen no one, with no indication of a large gathering of any kind. Was it possible that the Death Eaters could be this close to Hogsmeade after all that they had already done? 

The sunlight was weak, and the early day shadows cast ghoulish blackness over the street. James knew that Hogsmeade would be empty, the shops were closed, and the storm was only getting worse. Any villagers left around would be tucked inside on a day like today.

What was Snape doing here? There was no reasonable explanation to be out of the castle. Before today, he was sure that the Marauder’s were the only ones to find the passage through the humped-back witch, the last of the seven secret passages they had found. His breath fogged up his glasses, and he stopped to clear them on his jumper. The thick wool was damp, and the resulting wipe left them dirtier than they had been previously, but James shoved them on his nose and looked for where he had last seen Snape.

“Wait,” James said, and Sirius slowed to a stop. Fifty feet in front of them, a lone figure paused between two buildings indistinguishable in the storm. It was difficult to see with the snow and the dampness of his glasses, but if he wasn’t mistaken— 

“It’s Snape,” Sirius confirmed. 

Before they reached the impasse, Sirius drew out his wand, and James followed suit. Despite all that Lily had told him about Snape’s redeeming qualities, God— James hated Snape for what he had done to her. James held his wand tightly, pointing it at Snape’s back without remorse, and followed him into the shadows. 

… 

Lily woke to more than one whispering voice, and before she was fully awake, she reached beside her for James, but he wasn’t there. Her fingers searched the cold bedsheets, but it must’ve been hours since he had been gone. She moved to sit up, and a crumpled piece of parchment fell from her fist. 

“Lils—,” a voice said from beside her. Marlene? She wasn’t sure. 

The handwriting was his, but the urgency was all Sirius. They had left to follow a lead about Frank, and he didn’t want to wake her. He promised that he’d be back before she woke up, but then where was he? He hadn’t included many details about their search, or where she could find him. 

“Lils, you need to see this—,” 

“In a minute,” Lily said impatiently, flipping the note over and then crumpling it into her pocket. “What is it?” 

“It’s James,” Alice said hesitantly, her big eyes full of tears. “We wanted to let you rest before—,” 

“What happened to him?” Lily said, standing. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, first Amelia, then Frank and now James? What had she done to deserve this? “Where is he?” 

“No, not where,” Marlene said, moving into Lily’s line of sight. “How, Lily. He’s bleeding out, bleeding since they found him, and they can’t stop it. He’s—he’s calling for you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends!  
The title from this chapter is from a mid 17th century Jesuit hymn titled the Huron Carol, and since we’re well into December now, I’ve been listening to Christmas music to get into the mood, which is wreaking all sorts of havoc into the recently played playlist :)))))) this is the lead up to the finale of act 2 of this piece, with one more act to come.  
Also, follow me on tumblr @xxxvioletskyxxx for chapter updates and extra content!   
Much love,  
V


	18. The Grave and the Garden Will be Satisfied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily and the Marauders wait anxiously by James' bedside for answers after his attack in Hogsmeade.

Lily ran past Marlene and Alice and the rest of them, ignoring their cries as tears rushed down her face. She blinked them away and tore through the portrait hole. They hadn’t told her where they were keeping James, but it hadn’t mattered. Would he be anywhere else besides the Hospital Wing? 

The thought that James was severely injured and bleeding profusely scared her perhaps more than she put on. They had been through so much together; she couldn’t lose him—the what-ifs in tangled in her mind. By the looks Marlene and Alice had given her in the Common Room, his condition was worrisome. What if—what if, what if he was dying? 

She refused even the thought of it, the idea that James could be gone forever? It was impossible; he would be okay. He’d have to be. 

Lily ran down the marble staircase, and her feet echoed in the empty Entrance Hall. She pulled open the door to the Hospital Wing, wiped her eyes on her sleeve and ran to his side.

It was mostly unoccupied. A figure Lily suspected to be Mr. Crouch lay in a cot in the far corner, but the Matron and a swirling cloud of Healers surrounded the opposite corner. Blood pooled and collected on the floor, and Healers in bright green robes routinely Vanished it, puddles at a time. These were healers from St. Mungo’s— whatever and whoever had hurt James was beyond the Matron’s ability to heal. 

Lily rushed forward until the Healers turned, their fronts drenched in red, and her feet skidded and slid on the slippery floor. The figure in the bed was too pale to be conscious or even fully alive. Thick black hair fell over his brow, but he was bare from the waist up. Someone had undressed him, the tattered remains of his jumper and coat had been draped over a chair. They were so familiar but so foreign all at once, because how could this have happened? 

A hand slipped into hers, and Lily yanked her hand back instinctually, pushing Remus and Peter out of the way. James was dying, and where had she been, sleeping in? She should’ve been here by his side. 

“There was nothing anyone could have done,” Lupin said grimly, his face streaked in blood. He looked angry, petulant as he considered her. “Whatever Snape did to him, the Healers can’t fix it. He’s losing blood too fast,” 

“Surely there’s…” Lily said, her throat thickening. “Surely there’s something we can do!” 

Remus pulled her by the hand, together and away, and Lily tugged against it. Despite the feelings of trust she felt with Lupin, Sirius had answers. And James was dying; Lily needed to know what happened. She turned and saw him there, slumped beside the window, his head in his hands. Sirius’ deep, echoing sobs contested sharply with the blood and the fear and the mad rush of the Healers to contract his injuries. Lily looked back towards James, her eyes brimming with tears at the unfairness of it all. She was helpless. 

Lupin and Peter followed her as she ran towards Sirius, falling to her knees beside him. He looked ragged and dirty, unlike himself. “He’s ... he’s bleeding, bleeding too fast,” Sirius said, openly weeping. His left cheek had been lacerated by a perpetrator unknown, puckered and angry flesh ran across his face as if someone had slashed him across the cheek with a sword. His breath came quickly; his hands agitated in his lap. Lily had never seen him so unhinged; it was like he was a different person. The way his mouth snapped with words, he seemed so the dog, not quite human, not quite the person she thought he was. And Sirius looked the part too—his nails were caked in blood, and his arms wet from melting snow. She hardly recognized him; he was nearly delirious with fear. “James, he…he jumped in front of me, and the fucker cursed him! Cursed him, Evans! JAMES IS DYING, AND SNAPE GOT OFF ON IT!” 

“Enough, Sirius,” Lupin said sharply, his voice cracking and eyes like fire in the dim light. “It won’t help him,” 

“It won’t hurt either, will it?” 

“Sirius, I’m so sorry,” Lily cried, crouching in front of his chair, taking his cold and shaking hands in her own. “I’m so, so sorry. I wasn't there; I wish I were. James could —could _die_, and I’d never see him again.” 

“He _is_ dying, Evans,” Sirius sniffed, resting his head on hers. “They won’t tell me anything, told me to stay out of it. Dumbledore is in France, there’s no one coming for us,” 

Lupin looked up and away, picking up on a sound too faint for Lily to hear. Between two Healers, she saw James’ chest rise and fall, and he coughed, choked before her a Healer obstructed her view, and the Healers scrambled to address the most pressing concern. 

“Is he—“Peter began, but Remus and Lily beat them to it, rushing to James’ bedside before being pushed back and away, sliding and falling on the slippery flagstones. 

“Get them out of here!” A Healer shouted, waving her wand at Remus and Lily, shooting them back towards the wall with a blast of warm air, not worried as the two of them tumbled head over heels across the Hospital Wing.

“He’s our friend!” Remus shouted, his voice thick with emotion, tangled up with Lily on the other side of the room. “He’s our friend!” 

“You can help him by staying out of the way,” She snapped, turning back to her patient, waving her wand over a gash in James’ belly. The wound puckered but refused to close. And it was only one, a clear half-dozen similar lacerations crossed his body. One held a cloth up to James’ mouth, catching the blood as it fell. Another dribbled a silver potion onto the open cut, but even it was ineffective. The Healer shook her head and tried again. 

Behind her, Sirius stood; angry and tall, he towered above her and most others in the room. He moved to her side, helping Lupin up with one hand, but resting the other on her shoulder. 

“She’s his girlfriend,” Sirius said defiantly, stepping between Lily and James. “Give her a little respect,”

Lily blinked back tears, her knees bloody and nightgown stained. She leant against Sirius, dirty and wet and bloodstained as James, but living, alive. Sirius had carried James back to the castle himself, called for help and did all he could. But James was dying, nonetheless. 

“Mate, we should... we should go—“Lupin said quietly, but with a force that pulled Lily to look up in shock and surprise. “Let them work,” 

“I can’t leave him!” Lily stuttered, but Sirius pulled her back, taking her hands in his and leading her away. Lily made a motion to run for it, but Sirius grabbed her hand, pulling her back towards him, taking her bodily away. Lily screamed and pounded his back, desperate to get back to him. She couldn’t leave, wouldn’t leave. Nothing anyone could say would make her. Her nails tugged against Sirius' coat, but each footstep led her further away from James. Couldn’t Sirius see that any breath could be his last? James needed her, and they didn’t _want_ her. 

“They need to leave!” A Healer shouted, and another waved their wand, escorting them forcefully out of the Hospital Wing. The double doors closed with a slam, and Lily blinked back tears at the surprise, stilling in shock and despair. 

Remus began to speak, but choked, and Peter pulled him into a hug. Lupin was so much taller than Peter, taller even than Sirius and James, but all Lily could do was breathe; in and out as Sirius set her back down before her breath turned hysterical. Lily went to him without reservation, tugging at his jacket as she cried into his chest, the familiar smell of cigarettes and Earl Grey tea clinging to him like a perfume. Sirius wrapped his arms around her, and desperate thoughts circled through her mind, teardrops clinging to her lashes as she sobbed. Peter took hold of her sleeve, and Lupin reached around Sirius, pulling her between them, but there was nothing they could do, nobody they could call, James’ life was out of their hands now, living or dead, it was up to him. 

… 

The corridor was nearly empty, but the few students moving through the castle gave them a wide berth. Lily could see her friends out of the corner of her eye, but she almost wished she didn’t. They expected answers, and she had none. What could she tell them that was anything less than abandoned hope and despair? 

Lily leant into Sirius’ chest as thick hiccoughing sobs reverberated and calmed, rubbing his back and wiping her tears away on his jumper. She felt Lupin’s hand against hers, strong and steady and angry. 

“Lily, is he okay?” Marlene said quietly, coming up towards them after a time. She could see Amelia and Alice pulling her back, but the clear and open eyes of her friend brought her to tears once again, and the thickness of her throat betrayed the calm she thought she had. 

“He’s hurt, Mars,” Remus choked out, pulling away. Sirius tightened, and the relaxed, his fists tight against his side. 

“Snape cursed him,” Sirius said curtly, loudly enough that others could hear. “James, he’s unconscious, unresponsive. He’s…we don’t know, we don’t know—“ 

“I thought—” Alice began, her eyebrows knit in confusion. “What about— I thought he was trying to find Frank?” 

“We were following a lead,” Sirius said, his voice petulant and forceful, almost as if he expected Alice to disagree with him. “I was watching the Map, Snape and Regulus were in Hogsmeade. They had no reason to be, and no ability to get there without the secret passages—” 

“Why can’t you find him on the map?” 

“Frank is gone, Alice,” Remus said sadly, and Peter choked a sob from behind him. “Sirius and James couldn’t find him, and James is… he’s fighting for his life.” 

“Lily,” Amelia breathed, taking a step forward and taking Lily by the shoulders. “Lily, you don’t need to do anything, tell us anymore. We’ll be here whenever you need us.” 

Lily nodded but shook her head before falling into Sirius’ arms in tears. 

...

Hours past without news. Lily’s tears had long since dried up into silence and anxiety, sitting with the Marauders and her friends while the school went about its day. McGonagall swept past them fifteen minutes after her friends arrived, describing the school’s effort to apprehend James and Sirius’ attacker, working overtime and around the clock to discover the whereabouts of Frank and the source of Amelia’s initial disappearance. Food was delivered and proceeded to cool and be discarded without further thought. 

She leant against Sirius’ shoulder and held Alice’s hand as time passed in silence. From within the Hospital Wing, the rushing about of Healers neither placated nor calmed her; the news—when it came— was sparse and discouraging. At nightfall, her friends left for their dormitory, and as the shadows slipped into moonlight across the floor, Lily and the Marauders stood vigil in the corridor. Sleep pulled at her eyelids, but she couldn’t rest, couldn’t sleep. What if there was news and Lily wasn’t there to hear it? She needed to be awake and alive for when James came back to her. They tucked in their knees as Slytherin’s and Hufflepuffs past them to their Common Rooms after curfew, eyes low and afraid. Lily heard the whispers; a hopeless situation was what awaited her. But she hoped; nonetheless, James had taught her how to dream for the impossible. 

The doors remained shut, the keyhole armed and blocked—and for hours, no one came in, and nobody left. 

It was close to midnight before footsteps approached from above them; the castle was silent and still, snow falling through the high windows. The shadows had deepened, but the worry hung in the air like a fog, only thickening with time, and long ticks from the clock in the hall were monotonous and slow. She felt stupid from listening to the silence for so long. But there was a new sound, footsteps, running and then stopping. Lily wiped her eyes and looked up to see the familiar and long-awaited faces of his parents looking down on her. 

The Marauders jumped to their feet, and Sirius nearly fell into Mrs. Potter’s arms, his face thick with worry. 

“Oh Sirius,” Mrs. Potter said, rubbing placating circles onto his back. “Oh, darling, how is my son?”

“We don’t know,” Lupin said, his face pained and drawn. “We haven’t seen him for hours,” 

“How did you get here?” Peter asked, shaking Mr. Potter’s hand before being pulled into an unexpected embrace. 

“We used the Floo,” Mrs. Potter said, wiping her eyes on a handkerchief. “And then ran down three flights of stairs to find you. Professor McGonagall only told us fifteen minutes ago,” 

“He’s been in there for hours, and McGonagall only told you now?” Lily said, and the others turned to look. 

“My dear, they had been looking for us,” Mr. Potter said, “we were at our estate, our wands were in the other room, we didn’t think that anything could have been amiss,” 

“They could’ve used a Patronus,” Lily said stoutly, and Mrs. Potter looked over with sympathy. 

“Dumbledore could’ve done a lot of things,” Sirius said quietly. “And whatever it was he could’ve done; it won’t help James now.” 

… 

Despite their worry, the Potter’s wanted to know everything there was to know about the situation. The Marauders spoke with ease and honesty; their familiarity with James’ parents was apparent in how they spoke to one another. She wanted to hide with the knowledge that she was currently sleeping with their son, but both treated her with warmth and respect. Despite the current circumstance, Lily leant heavily into their warmth as Sirius told them his side of the story. 

“There was nothing I could’ve done,” Sirius said in a pained voice. “They came upon us so fast, James just wanted answers. But we saw them, masks removed. They were in all black, hiding in the shadows. I’m sure now that Snape would’ve killed him if he’d the time,” 

“Are you saying Snape was behind this?” Mrs. Potter said aghast. “He cursed James?” 

“It had to be him,” Sirius said firmly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “The voice, the stance, he was hooded, but who else could it have been? We knew that Snape was in leagues with them. We’ve known that for ages,” 

“Sev wouldn’t have done this,” Lily said, her voice cracking with his name. In the admission, she looked down in shame. But was it not in his nature? If not him, then who? 

“But you’re not sure it was him?” Lupin pressed. 

“Rem, who else could it be?” Sirius growled. 

“We don’t know who kidnapped Amelia Bones,” Peter said, his voice small. But the others turned in surprise to listen. “If it was Moody, or if he was, oh I don’t know, coerced somehow. We don’t know if it was Snape who cursed James; we know nothing. And meanwhile, James is bleeding out, and what can we do?” 

Lily shook with suppressed tears and fell into Sirius’ arms without a second thought. He pulled her near to him, his tears falling with thick echoing sobs. Her fingernails dug into his leather jacket, and she tucked her head into his chest the way she had done to James so often. But this wasn’t him; it was Sirius Black—the boy she thought didn’t give a fig about others until she gave him a chance. Despite what must’ve been a painful separation, hadn’t Sirius stuck by her? Even though she was the one who took James from him, hadn’t he loved her nonetheless? Hadn’t he made plans to rescue Amelia, protect her from Crouch? Wasn’t he the one who had carried James from Hogsmeade to save his life? 

“He’ll pull through,” Remus said with a choke. “_God_, he has to,” 

… 

Despite their grief, the Potter’s stayed, sitting with them on the stone floor outside the Hospital Wing. Minutes bled into hours, and Lily’s mind began to spiral with unwelcome possibilities. James had to be alive; they wouldn’t be making a fuss if he wasn’t. He had to be okay, because how could they live if he wasn’t? 

A cool hand slipped into her own, and Lily started, looking over her shoulder to Mrs. Potter. Her eyes were kind, her face open and sincere, and in a moment, all her fears and worries bubbled over into hiccoughing sobs. Lily slipped into her arms without hesitation or reserve, and they cried together, huddled in the corridor in the dark. 

Euphemia whispered gentle little nothings as she cried, and Lily’s heart broke at the familiarity between James and his mother. Had it been only this morning that she and James had slept together on the sofa in the Gryffindor Common Room? It felt like another life.

“There, there, darling,” Euphemia whispered. “Sleep now, we’ll know more in the morning,” 

“We’ll wake you if there’s news,” Mr. Potter said, tucked between Peter and Remus, looking so much like James sitting between his friends. “If there’s any before morning,” 

“Sleep, now,” Euphemia said, her voice low and calm. Lily rested her head on Euphemia’s belly and shifted as Mrs. Potter undid the ribbon at the end of Lily’s plait, running her fingers through her hair. Lily smiled softly as Sirius laid down beside her, his head beside hers on Euphemia’s lap. She felt Euphemia’s soft laugh as her fingers ran through her hair, brushing through Sirius’ mangled hair with her other hand. She watched as Mr. Potter Summoned a mug of something hot, duplicating it for the others. The smell of chocolate and the sweet air of Mrs. Potter’s perfume cut through the panic of her worried mind. James wasn’t alone, and he would be okay; he had to be. 

Someone tucked a blanket over her with magic, and Lily pulled in her body closer to Mrs. Potter’s warmth. “Sleep, darling,” she whispered, and everything in Lily relaxed at her words. “All will be well in the morning,” 

Euphemia sang as she fell asleep, the words soft and warm and foreign; a lullaby softer and quieter until Lily slipped into sleep. 

… 

Mr. Potter looked over to his wife, his heart bursting with anger and sadness and frustration for James’ condition. But his pain was small compared to Sirius’, to Lily’s? What must it be to them, to see James in puddles of blood? 

Fleamont Summoned a tray of hot chocolates, tucking a healthy measure of scotch into his own before distributing them to the others. Remus wrapped his hands around the mug, his face unreadable in the faint light. Euphemia smiled as he placed the mug in front of her, the steam warming the cooling air around them. They were so young, Fleamont thought with a sigh, catching his wife’s eye. All of them were too young for a war that had made men of boys before their time. 

Euphemia looked such a mother among them, Fleamont thought, summoning strength and courage where there was little to be found. They were scared and alone and worried sick, but his wife had brought sleep in a hopeless vigil, enough for Sirius and Lily to sleep in her embrace. 

James had written home once a week for seven years, his tales amusing and ever-evolving. There were no secrets between them and their son. James was their miracle; the love of their lives. As the years progressed, the steady news of Quidditch, pranks, classwork and Hogsmeade weekends shifted from the comical to the stark. James didn’t remain a child for nearly as long as they wanted him to. 

Their son wrote about a steady stream of girlfriends, pranks that went wrong, Remus’ monthly transformations. But James had also told them about dark curses, black magic in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library. James told them about the shifting allegiances of enemies and acquaintances, the extra defensive magic courses he had signed up for on weekends. Even in his retirement, Fleamont spent time at the Ministry these days— and his news was bleak and only growing murkier. Hope was hopeless, but he told James the truth anyway. Just the same as he had for his son’s entire life. The facts, if not quite as watered down as he’d like. Owls were being intercepted, news biased and unreliable. His friends in the Prophet told him about the mandatory stories the Ministry forced them to include, truth perhaps, but limited in scope. Ever since that day, seventeen years before, when a screaming boy was placed in Fleamont's arms for the first time, he had lived his life to protect his family. Because who was he without them? 

Fleamont and Euphemia had led James to Platform 9 3/4 for seven years, armed with the hope that nothing could happen to their son when Dumbledore was there. Dumbledore would protect James, protect the students and the staff despite the rise of dark magic. He was the best wizard this world has ever known, and nothing unfixable could occur under his care. 

How very wrong he was. 

Because was his son not bleeding and dying just next door? Were his friends, his parents not worthy to hold his hand and kiss his brow as he teetered between the worlds? 

Tears poured down Fleamont’s face as the first notes of a lullaby rang in the silence, and the darkness, he pulled his boys closer to him, Peter and Lupin both. He couldn’t hold his son, but he’d stand by his friends as their world slipped into the night. 

… 

_Later, James couldn’t tell if what he experienced was real or imagined. The blood pooled and caked, soaked the ground beneath him, left his hands dripping before the blood congealed. His thoughts were thick, like molasses in the cold, and everything slowed. What was real? What was already gone, floating through the air? _

_He recalled voices, some whispery soft notes in his ear, some shouts and exclamations. James wondered what they were shouting about, had something happened? The action seemed so far away. Nothing existed beside this misty nothingness he floated in. Everything was wisps of smoke and faded before he could approach. _

_James imagined a string, taut and strong, between him and reality. The string rebounded with motion, but James remained stationary. The line could bounce and shake or stay still, but he couldn’t respond. It lay listless in his hands. James thought that perhaps he could, what would happen if he did? The smoke and the blood and the voices were all that there was. Everything else was imaginary, non-corporal. It’s killing me, James remembered thinking. I’m going to die here._

_He remembered the strange half-awareness, caught somewhere between sleep and waking. The stars blinked and called to him, the tall spruces waved and dipped in greeting. He tried to speak, to respond, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t form the words. _

_Was he dead? _

_Is that what was wrong? Was he dead? Was this the afterlife, the world between the worlds? _

_Or maybe not, he mused. Perhaps nothing was wrong at all; he might have just been asleep. Maybe he had imagined it all; maybe it was a trick of his subconscious, this death. It could come to pass that he’d wake up in cold sweat, safe and sound in his bed. Maybe nothing had happened at all. _

_His body felt disconnected from his thoughts; it felt like he was watching himself through half-shut eyes. But he couldn’t see, couldn’t properly think, couldn’t move. Something must've broken within him, he thought sleepily. _Something_ must be wrong, and even then, James knew he was holding on to the last strings of consciousness. _

_There was a voice, insistent and strange-sounding, hovering over him. He didn’t recognize it; the sound was foreign to him. His ears rang like they were filled with cotton._

_It sounded urgent, and James wanted to help them, he really did. Hands cupped his face, and thumbs rubbed circles on his cheekbones as tears rained down on his forehead. Warm lips touched his, and James leaned into the touch, so familiar but so strange at the same time._

_He wanted to move, he knew that reaching them and waking was important, but he couldn’t muster the energy. James couldn’t move, couldn’t open his eyes or move his head, and that scared him. He couldn‘t feel his toes or his fingers or the feeling of the ground below him. So while they shook him and cried over his numb body, he closed his eyes, and all else faded away._

_She smelled familiar, though, he thought. That flowery smell was perfume, a heady scent that brought back memories of Lily Evans lying on his chest in Gryffindor tower. The girl was screaming again, tugging at his body. He wanted to help her; honestly he did. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t feel his body anymore, and his mind was going fuzzy._

_James’ eyes lolled back inside his head, and he knew no more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a beast and remained a beast the entire time I wrote it. I wrote the first three thousand words in less than a day, discovered both an out of character interaction with Sirius and Lily, as well as a hole I couldn’t seem to pull myself out of. This chapter was also horrendously upsetting to write, and due to the particular unhappiness that I knew was to come, I continued to put it to one side in exchange for happier outputs.   
I also went on holiday twice in the last month and enjoyed the time away immensely. However—and I can’t emphasize this enough— the existential dread of the day-to-day really puts a damper on creative output.   
I spoke to a friend about this piece in particular (which I have fondly described as novel prep set in the 1970s in Scotland if you were wondering), and I am excited to begin new projects once this one is complete. I’m planning on writing two supplemental pieces of a comparable length and depth for practice before working on my novel.   
I’ve been writing this piece for almost a year; the first anniversary is next month. From what was intentioned as a one-off to get back into writing has evolved and expanded thanks to your help and support, we’re past 100k words, which is bananas to me. I’ve been writing Harry Potter since high school, and even now, it still feels like coming home.   
Leave a thought if you please— I welcome any kind discussion as it comes.   
xo   
V


	19. With True Love and Brotherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While James lays unconscious and deathly injured in the Hospital Wing, Lily and the Potter's stand vigil. Meanwhile, Tony and Mary investigate Frank's disappearance and Sirius, Lupin and Marlene hunt for James' assailants.

Sirius awoke to a dull scraping noise, gentle pressure against his shoulder. He made a noise of discontent and tucked herself further into Mrs. Potter’s lap, his head bumping against Lily’s. He blinked his eyes open when the pressure behind him increased; someone was pushing at the door. A faint light shone from the high windows, casting long shadows on the flagstones. It was still very early. 

Sirius rubbed his eyes, his mind fearful and alert as the events of the day before came into sharper focus. He sat up, gently shaking Lily’s shoulder and caught Euphemia’s eye. How long had they been there for? And with news so long-awaited, how encouraging could the information possibly be? 

Behind him, Lupin and Peter stirred, but Mr. Potter was already awake, looking the very image of James when he was angry. It didn’t show as easily, but it was there nonetheless— the slight tightening of his shoulders, the pressing of his lips. Despite his easy demeanour the night before, Sirius couldn’t imagine what this stress was doing to them. James was their only son, and for all they knew, he was dying. 

Euphemia shifted and stood with grace, dusting off Lily’s nightgown and vanishing the blankets with a wave of her wand. The others were moving as well, rising more slowly with yawns and stretches. 

The door pushed open at last, and the Healer behind it appeared. 

“He’s going to be okay,” she said, her robes cleaned and expression more hopeful than the night before. Sirius’s breath caught, and looked over to where Lily was. She caught his eye, and Sirius smiled, a tugging at his lips that felt unfamiliar and wonderful. 

“We stopped the bleeding to the best of our ability,” the Healer said, leading them into the Hospital Wing. “But he was cursed with dark magic, and the lacerations could not be fully healed. He can’t be moved for fear of agitating the stitches,” 

Sirius nodded blindly as the Healer led them past the doors to James’ bedside. “He’s conscious, but he comes in and out. He was very anxious to see you all,” 

“I bet he was,” Lupin muttered, looking down at James. 

James didn’t look like himself, Lily thought, her eyes swimming with unexpected tears. He didn’t look fully awake or even fully alive as they considered him, pale and drawn and lying on a hospital bed. He was still bare from the waist up, and the slashes across his chest and shoulders were stitched up with Muggle sutures and held in place with bandages. His hair was uncombed and lying flat against his forehead, eyes closed, and mouth drawn. Lily’s thoughts swam with the last time she had seen him like this before the Marauders burst into their dormitory. Was it only three days ago that they had snogged half-naked in his bedroom? And indeed, were those bruises and scratches on his neck and chest not from the accident, but from her? She couldn’t pull the sounds he made against her throat from her mind; he had kissed her then with intensity, with purpose. 

“What is this?” the Healer asked, walking towards Sirius and touching the deep slash on his cheekbone. Lily watched with bated breath as Sirius recoiled in pain and took a step back, both in what appeared to be embarrassment and discomfort. 

“It’s a cut,” Sirius said starkly, furrowing his eyebrows and turning toward Lupin, who cracked a grin. “You didn’t seem particularly interested in looking at it yesterday,” 

“I daresay we were pre-occupied on keeping your friend alive,” the Healer said bluntly, pulling her wand out of a holster on her hip. She waved her wand about and considered the depth and severity of his injury. “Was it the same curse that hit him?” 

“No, it was something else,” Sirius said, distracted. He couldn’t bring himself to admit that it wasn’t Snape who cursed him, but the hooded bloke beside him. And Sirius only got hit because he was stunned in the aftermath of James’ jumping in front of a curse intended for him. Sirius was shocked and embarrassed and unable to help, and now that time has passed, the slash seemed to him a due punishment to pay. He had pulled his wand out of his pocket and cursed James’ assailants without mercy, curses and hexes and dark magic his mother had taught him, nonverbal and relentless. Sirius hadn’t noticed the cut at the time, distracted and horrified at the sight of James lying in a pool of blood in the snow. He remembered walking past the two hooded attackers without a second thought, James lolling and bleeding in his arms, running as fast as he could to Hogwarts. 

The Healer pointed her wand at his cut, ignoring the others and focused on the task at hand. The skin healed, but the fusing of flesh pinched and pulled as it was pulled together, but Sirius fought to keep his expression still. There was no need to frighten James’ parents any more than they already had been.

“Snape has to pay for what he did,” Lupin said firmly, drawing shock and surprise from the Healer and Peter. “If it was his curse, the slashing spell, that is,” 

Lily watched as James’ parents sat at their son’s bedside, one of his hands held tightly in both of hers. Their faces were drawn, fearful. Despite Mrs. Potter’s gentle nature, Lily saw the worry on their faces. The ache of his loss and the fear of the unknown had paralyzed her. 

It brought the most important things to light. Lily and James had known each other for so long, and Lily didn’t know what she would be if he was gone. She had grown very fond of having him close. 

Lily watched Mrs. Potter carefully, sitting down only when she nodded faintly. Lily sat down numbly, sitting at James’ bedside as if in a trance, taking his left hand in hers. 

“Is he going to get better?” Mr. Potter asked thinly, his eyes searching. Lily watched helplessly as tears fell down Mrs. Potter’s cheeks. 

“We don’t know,” the Healer said finally. “The curse was thorough, cutting through flesh and organs alike. I won’t minimize the danger he’s in; the next few hours will be crucial to his recovery. He needs to stay still, as still as possible, or the sutures will break. And unless we can discover a way to cut through the dark magic…” 

Lily didn’t need to hear the rest. 

“How…” Lupin began, seemingly unable to find the words. Lily looked up to see him and Sirius standing closely together at the foot of James’ bed, hands held tightly between them. “How … alive is he?” 

“We don’t know,” the Healer said sadly, lowering her wand back into its holster. “No one does, we’ve consulted with the specialists from St. Mungo’s, a warlock in France, reading document after document of dark magic and severing charms, but nothing leads to nothing. We can keep him stable, but nothing more,” 

Peter clutched the corner of James’ bed for support before breaking down in tears, thick hiccoughing sobs echoed throughout the room. Lily blinked back tears of her own, and when Sirius and Lupin whispered together and left the room in a hurry, she didn’t have the energy to follow.

… 

As the hours passed, James blinked in and out of consciousness. He awoke confused and in what appeared to be a great deal of pain, his eyes blurry and unfocused. Lily couldn't tell if he was aware of their presence or the continual blood replenishing potion he was administered. Her roommates came by during their free period and during meal times, but for the most part, she stayed still, James’ hand held tightly in hers. When she asked, Marlene had dropped off a handful of clothes for her, knickers and a clean bra as well as the jumper she had worn that last night in Gryffindor tower. She dressed in silence in the loo just off the Hospital Wing, letting her nightgown fall to the floor without further consideration. She used a quick cleaning charm in the absence of a warm shower and dressed methodically. Socks, knickers, her favourite Muggle t-shirt, one strap and then the other of her dungarees, pulling the hem of James’ jumper over the lot. It was like he was there with her, dressing in silence. She could almost hear the rustle of clothing, the muffled curse as he stumbled into his trousers. 

Lily pulled the handkerchief his mother had given her out of the pile of discarded things and brought it up to her face, turning to face the small looking glass on the wall. The light was all wrong, and the image was distorted with age, but could that truly be her? Lily had never seen a face so empty, so barred of expression. Lily couldn’t remember experiencing so many fits of emotion since her dad had died a few years ago. Her eyes were red and puffy, her skin pale and nearly translucent in grief. She was thin, too. Thinner than she remembered being. She pulled her hands to her waist, trying to remember the last time she had eaten or even tried to eat. Had she had any water? When, indeed, was the last time she had showered? 

It didn’t matter, but these inconsistencies of even the most basic acts of staying alive bothered her. When was the last time she had thought for her own wellbeing? How many times had she moved food around her plate for something to do while others ate? 

She knew that Mrs. Potter had noticed, last night before she had fallen asleep, they had caught eyes for a moment too long, and it was like Lily was bare before her. There was something in her voice, Lily recalled. Something calming and stilling, but she wasn’t quite able to place it. Reassuring, but concerned and worried, not for James’ safety and wellbeing but her own. 

It had been so long since she had had a mother who cared, this outpouring of maternal love nearly overpowered her. What must it have been like to grow up with parents like James’? To be supported and encouraged, loved beyond measure without any instigation or prompting? For a love that would bring back the dead, James’ parents had welcomed and accepted her without words, without hesitation, even. Last night, before she had fallen asleep on Mrs. Potter’s lap, she had welcomed the Marauder’s presence like they were her own people, the friends, perhaps, she hadn’t had with the opposite sex since fifth year. Even without James, they were there for one another, and she had fallen asleep without a single thought of her acceptance among them. 

She was James’ people now. 

Lily blew her nose and washed her face, attempting some semblance to a self-care routine the tiny bathroom provided. She thought back to her and James’ loo in the Head’s Dormitory, the double vanity, clawfoot tub. Thinking fondly of their things, tangled together and occupying the same space. Is that what they were now, one of the same?

And here he was, she thought with a sinking feeling in her belly— clinging to consciousness and dying in his parent's arms. She couldn’t let him, she’d do anything to keep him here with the people who cared most about him. For all he had done, he deserved a second chance. 

Lily left the loo and shut the door quietly behind her, resuming her vigil at his bedside. She looked to his bedside table and picked up the plate of cottage pie Marlene had left for her, forcing one bite and then another into her mouth, drinking a tall glass of water, refilling it, and drinking again before Vanishing the plate and taking James’ hand in hers. 

“Where did Peter go?” Lily asked, looking around the Hospital Wing, shocked to find Mr. Crouch’s bed unoccupied. “And, Mr. Crouch? I didn’t see them leave,” 

“Some warlock’s from the Auror department came by five minutes ago, just after you left,” Mr. Potter explained. “Peter has gone for his dinner, I suspect,” 

They sat in silence for a minute or two, Lily struggling to come to grips with the shifting sands of her present reality. It all seemed so sudden, James’ injury, Frank’s disappearance. Why had Snape and one of his mates been in Hogsmeade for anyway? What business had they away from the castle in the early hours of the morning? 

“How long have you two been seeing each other?” Mrs. Potter asked softly. 

Lily moved to release James’ hand before tugging at her jumper sleeves. Surely they knew something, Lily thought, madly. She recalled James’ frustration at reaching his parents through the Owl Post, something about opened packages? And wasn’t she here, wearing his jumper in front of them?

“Not… very long,” Lily said quietly, taking a deep breath and looking his mother in the eye. It was silly to be ashamed; Lily had seen James’ parents on the platform at King’s Cross for seven years. Their parents knew each other. But it was different, was it not? Last night, in a moment of desperation and panic, Mrs. Potter had been there for her, calming her down, lessening the emotional burden. Had she known then? Had she suspected? Surely Mrs. Potter knew that there was something there between Lily and her son. How could she not have? 

“James told us about you four months ago,” Mr. Potter said with an exhale, looking up with a half-smile. “This isn’t an intervention, Lily. We don’t mean to alarm you. You mean a great deal to him if his letters are anything to go by,” 

“He loves you very much,” Mrs. Potter said with a smile, reaching across James’ chest for Lily’s hand. Lily gripped it firmly, tucking Mrs. Potter’s fingers gently against her own. 

Lily smiled, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. She let go of Mrs. Potter’s hand to dab at her eyes and looked up to see a familiarly embroidered handkerchief in her hand. 

“For you,” Mrs. Potter said, pressing the hankie into Lily’s hand. “I have far too many,” 

“Thank you,” Lily said, wiping her eyes. Unlike James’, a soft and curling  _ EIP _ was embroidered on the corner in red thread. “I already have one of yours; James gave it to me,” 

Mrs. Potter smiled, squeezing her hand gently before letting go. 

“He’s changed since we last saw him,” Mr. Potter said, his words slow and carefully worded. Lily hesitated, wondering what he was going to say next. “Jumping in front of a curse to save his friends, that instinct he was born with. But he’s grown, nonetheless, and we have you to thank for that, I suppose,” 

Lily smiled, but even to herself, it felt weak, unsure. Had James changed because of her? Did she merit such alteration to his character? She couldn’t have pictured herself living in the same space with him six months ago, and here she was, holding his hand in front of his parents. Where could they be six months from now? Lily blushed to consider it, but she could no longer imagine herself living happily without him. 

“Lily, you should get some sleep,” Mr. Potter said, watching her carefully. 

“No, I’ll be okay for a while,” said Lily, tucking her knees up to her chest. “I slept last night, but … It’s been a long day. You’re welcome to use our dormitory. I’ll watch over him,” 

Mr. and Mrs. Potter exchanged a look. Mr. Potter raised a word of protest, but Mrs. Potter turned to her son, kissing him on the forehead and grasping his hand tightly in her own. 

“You will let us know if there’s news?” Mr. Potter said, looking at James with a worried expression. 

“Of course,” Lily said. “Peter shouldn’t be much longer, and Marlene’s stopping by as soon as she’s able to.” 

“I’m worried for Sirius,” Mrs. Potter said anxiously. “It’s been hours; he and Remus should’ve been back by now,” 

“Sirius has a good head on his shoulders,” Lily said. “I didn’t use to think so, but he’s proven me otherwise lately. They’ll have James’ best interests at heart.” 

“Watch over our son,” Mr. Potter said, leaning down suddenly and kissing her forehead. “He needs you, now,” 

Lily blushed down to her feet, gripping James’ hand in a way that felt almost desperate. Something tangible to hold while everything seemed to be tilting out of her control. Nevertheless, she swallowed and considered his parents. Older, but caring, gentle, loving, where her own parents had not been. She had only really spoken to them alone today, and she trusted them explicitly. 

“I will,” Lily said, watching as James’ parents walked out of the Hospital Wing and out of sight. 

...

Time seemed to bleed, moving forward without consideration for her unoccupied mind. Minutes and hours passed without news, Healers, as well as Peter and Marlene and the others, kept her company but nothing seemed to change. She ate when she was hungry, rested when she was tired, but James remained the same, safe but in hopeless danger at the same time. 

She thought back to what Mrs. Potter had said about Sirius, how worried she was. And despite the deep anxiety Lily felt for James’ wellbeing, Sirius was the one frightened her. Sirius was the one who rescued James, who had carried him back to the castle; he was the one whose actions could very easily fall to either side if James’ condition was to worsen. She remembered how anxious he had looked, tight but unreadable at the same time. At Lupin’s declaration, Lily had watched as Sirius tightened his fists and set his expression. Hopelessness and grief covered every facet of his stance. 

Lily waited for what seemed like hours, alone with James. She had no way of knowing what Lupin and Sirius were doing, nor where they were or how soon they were likely to return. She wished she did, if not only for some friendly company. She wanted to reach for him, to adjust the piece of fringe that fell over his eyes, but what difference would it make? Where was that map of theirs when she needed it? 

James was still unconscious, and although the bleeding had slowed and he wasn’t in danger of imminent death, he still looked dead. His skin was chalky and pale, his lips bloodless and parted slightly, breath rising in near gasping pants as if there wasn’t enough air to be had. Despite the mediwitches' magic, the smell of blood hung heavy in the air. 

She was so tired; it had been hours since the healers had left, hours since Sirius and Lupin had left for God knows where. Lily was grateful to have given her space to the Potter’s, but when was she going to sleep? How much longer until she was allowed to rest? Nonetheless, she was thankful for Sirius, if not only for his sense of self-preservation. It had saved James’ life. 

“He needn’t have had to help if Sev hadn’t cursed you in the first place,” Lily muttered, fingers tangled in James’ collar. “If he had had any decency, he wouldn’t have cursed without looking.” 

Lily tried not to look, focusing her eyes on the window over James’ shoulder, tears burning in her eyes. Maybe it was the exhaustion, the emotional toll of nearly losing him to curse damage, dead because Severus had attacked him. It had been almost two years since that day by the beech tree, and Lily was sure she was past this. Sev had made his choice, and he had chosen himself and his mates over her. 

He wasn't it for her, and where it had once been easy to look past his shaky morality, she couldn’t justify it now. It was so clear to her— like a screen had moved between her perception of him and reality. Severus was tall but sallow and thin. He had a stammer, and his robes were several sizes too small, patched and faded. When they were growing up, Lily was his only friend, and their friendship was obsessive and controlling, even if she hadn’t seen it at the time. Sev wanted to know everything about her, her friends, what she was doing, and where she was going. He had his fingers dipped into every aspect of her life, for good or ill, and she felt like a fly caught in the middle of a web, trapped and vulnerable. There was a time when she didn’t think that she could live without him, the clever turn of phrase at an off-colour joke, his comments on blood purity. She didn’t see it then, but how could she not have? It was all there, plain as day, from the very beginning. 

But, she supposed, he was the one who had told her about magic. He was the gate to all of this; Severus was the one with the answers when her parents divorced, and her relationship with Petunia soured. Snape was there for her through all of that. But was it because he cared about her or couldn’t bear to lose her? He had once been her only friend, and for years he had fought to keep it that way. 

Lily’s blood boiled at the thought that Sev only kept her around as an object of fascination, but it was true, wasn’t it? He wanted her because Lily had grown up passively, and Severus needed someone to control. Someone who trusted him implicitly, took his word as it came, did what he wanted when asked. And when his ambition took him to higher quarters Lily wasn’t willing to go; he had abandoned her. 

But James was different; he was gentle where Severus was rough, kind where he was blasé. For years, she had thought it was one or the other, but it wasn’t true, was it? It could never have been Snape; he would’ve changed her into something unrecognizable, shaped and moulded her with force into something submissive and belligerent. 

James groaned, turning over slightly. His lips parted, and face twisted in pain as he moved, his eyebrows scrunching together in pain. She reached for him, taking hold of his lapels and pressing her forehead to his. She let out a sigh of relief and kissed his forehead before leaning back into her seat. 

James made the motion of sitting up, leaning back on an elbow, but she held him back with a gentle hand, shaking slightly against him. 

“No, no, stay still,” Lily said quickly, moving to cover his hands with her own. “Don’t move, it’ll agitate the dressings; you have to stay as still as you can,” 

James exhaled, falling back against his sheets. He coughed, and his hand returned red, dripping down the side of his mouth. Lily reached in her pocket for his mother’s handkerchief, wiping the blood from his lips. 

“Evans,” James breathed with a smile, and Lily nodded fervently, taking both his hands in hers. 

“The others will be back soon,” Lily said. “Your parents, they’ll want to see you,” 

“Is Sirius okay?” James said quickly, looking anxiously around the room. “The others, are they okay?” 

“Worried sick, but safe,” Lily said, and James exhaled in relief. “They’re resting; I said I’d watch you in the meantime,” 

“My parents are here?” James asked, his eyes searching into hers. “Why?” 

“Why do you think?” Lily said with a tilted eyebrow, and he laughed, his smiling eyes turned towards her. “You’re in the Hospital Wing, just in case you didn’t notice,” 

“It’s just a cut, no need to fuss,” James said, pulling back the sheets to examine his wounds. The white bandages that covered his torso were numerous but clean and newly applied. He must’ve still been tender because when she pulled the sheet back up his torso, he winced. “Oh,” 

“Worse than you thought,” Lily said, not quite able to watch until the sheet was back in place.

“Tis but a flesh wound,” James said with a half-smile, leaning back against his cushions with a groan. “Ugh, on second thought, perhaps more than a flesh wound,” 

“You were hit by some sort of slashing curse,” Lily said, watching him carefully. “Sirius thinks it was Snape who cursed you, but we don’t know for sure.”

“How bad is it?” James said starkly, his expression firm and intense. 

Lily hesitated, but her expression must’ve given it away. She hated watching him, knowing deep down that his recovery was negligible until they found out what had hit him. 

“It’s bad,” Lily said, biting her lip and taking his hand. James sighed, rubbing the pad of his thumb over hers. “I’m so sorry, James,” 

“Sorry? What are you sorry for?” he said incredulously, and Lily looked up in confusion, “God, Evans, do you know how much we have to be thankful for?” 

“Uh, what?” 

“Well, I’m alive, for starters,” James said, counting things off with his fingers. “And you’re here, crying over my helpless form and holding my hand…” 

Lily sniffed and leant forward to kiss him, brushing her nose against his with a broad smile on her face despite the tears in her eyes. 

“James!” 

Lily turned to see Sirius and Remus, Peter hot on their heels, enter the room with a hoot of joy. Lily laughed and choked, a flood of emotions overtaking her. The Marauders huddled around James’ bed, Mary and Tony, as well as Marlene and the rest of her friends just behind. 

A firm hand grasped her shoulder, and Mr. Potter looked down on her with a smile on his lips, watching with happiness as his wife embraced James, brushing the fringe out of his eyes. 

“How are you feeling, mate?” Lupin asked. 

“Just as well as one could expect,” James said, and Lily laughed; the sound contagious and overflowing with joy. “And where have you lot been?” 

“We have news, actually,” Tony said, taking Mary’s hand gently in his. 

“We have a lead on where Frank might be held,” Mary said, watching as Lupin and Sirius shared a look of excitement. “He has to be in the castle, most likely not in a room so much as a holding place, between the walls or up in the parapets. It’s unlikely that he’s in Hogsmeade or on the grounds, or the Aurors would have found him before now. The castle’s magical architecture is helping Frank’s assailants more than his rescuers at this point.”

“We have news as well,” Lupin said, turning to Sirius, who crossed his arms and considered James. “It’s just a theory,” 

“A damn good theory, I’d say,” Sirius said gruffly, a note of pride in his voice. 

“Nonetheless, the theory goes that the curse Snape used wasn’t regulated. Remember levicorpus? He invented that in fifth year,” 

“And many a sore buttock due to it,” Marlene said with a groan, and Amelia nodded solemnly. 

“As well as the counter-curse,” Lupin continued. “It wasn’t the only spell he invented, but the working theory holds if we assume that Snape didn’t learn the curse he used, but rather invented it. And if he invented it, potentially, if he’s willing to, he could counter it,” 

“It could save James’ life,” 

“If he’s willing to help,” said Mary. “And indeed, if one can find him. He knows every hide-y hole in the castle,” 

“Not all of them, and not quite so well as those present,” Sirius said, pulling a piece of parchment from inside his robes and laying it on James’ knees. He pointed his wand at the front and muttered a phrase before words spread and corridors appeared, footsteps with names written above them moving throughout the castle. Sirius looked up to gauge Tony and Amelia’s expression, smiling at their looks of apprehension and confusion while the others searched for Snape. 

“Found him,” Lily said finally, pointing to a corridor off the dungeons. Snape’s footsteps paced the small space, and Sirius grinned. 

“He hasn’t moved for hours,” Lupin said, “but it’s not just about finding him; we also have to convince him. We can’t force him to undo dark magic without his consent,” 

“Do we have any unsavoury knowledge on him we could use to our benefit? 

“Blackmail,” Sirius said, pointing at Marlene and snapping his fingers. “I like the way you think, McKinnon,” 

“There was that time in the Whomping Willow—“ Peter began. 

“No,” Lupin said firmly. “Literally anything else, not that,” 

“What are they talking about?” Alice asked, leaning over to Lily. But Lily watched Sirius, whose expression had closed while Peter and James tried to convince Sirius otherwise. 

“It’s our best shot,” James said finally. “I saved his damn life, and he’d remember that. He’d be dead if not for me,” 

“So saying that we both find Snape and convince him to help, what’s to say he won’t refuse?” Mr. Potter said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “It seems a reach to me. You boys have never had a good relationship with Snape,” 

“We don’t need to like him,” Sirius said, and Lily balked as the Marauders turned towards her. “He loved Evans; we can use that against him,” 

“No,” Lily said, “this is mental; Sev would never agree to help you. He’s— he’s cursed James once, what’s to say he won’t do it again?” 

“She has a point,” Marlene said. 

“We have to try,” Peter said. “James won’t get any better without Snape’s help. And— and we know where he is! The plan is solid,” 

“What do you think?” Mrs. Potter said, turning towards her son. James looked so weak, but he set his expression and nodded. 

“He’ll do as he’s told,” James said, closing his eyes. “Once Pads’ has gotten through with him, there won’t be enough left of him to put in a matchbox,” 

… 

It was agreed that Marlene, Lupin and Sirius would go to confront Snape while the others waited. The map lay open on James' knees, and Lily couldn’t help watching their footsteps as they approached where Snape was hiding. 

Her friends were slumped around James’ bed—Mary across from her, head resting in folded hands. Peter was bent in a chair, Amelia and Tony leant against the wall. Mr. and Mrs. Potter sat with Lily in their chairs around James’ bedside. 

Lily squeezed James’ hand in her own, but he was too tired to respond. Mrs. Potter had given him another draught of blood replenishing potion, doused with a heavy dose of pepper up potion. If it had helped, Lily couldn’t tell. He looked as drained and exhausted as she’d ever seen him. He was usually constantly in motion, hands fiddling with that Snitch of his father’s, flipping his wand about in his hands. James looked almost unnatural, not quite asleep but not awake, either. 

“They’re coming!” Peter shouted, startling the assembled company. 

“Are you sure?” Alice asked, eyes searching over the parchment. “I can’t see them,” 

“There,” Tony said, his finger tracing the path of the group as they moved throughout the castle’s corridors. “They’re moving quickly,” 

They watched anxiously as Marlene led the others through the corridors and back passages to the Hospital Wing. Despite knowing they were coming, Lily jumped when the door swung open, and their friends appeared. 

Sirius led Snape into the Hospital Wing with his wand pressed firmly into his neck. Despite Snape’s supposed compliance, Lily knew enough about her old friend to realize they had to move quickly before Snape bolted. 

“Heal him,” Sirius snapped, leading Snape to James’ bedside. “Whatever dark magic you did to him, you’re the only one who can fix it,” 

“What’s in it for me?” Snape said, turning to face him. 

“What’s in it for you?” Said Lupin, aghast. “You don’t have the privilege the ask favours,” 

“Then why, exactly, should I bother helping him at all?” Severus snapped. Lily watched him closely, but Snape was like a rat in a trap. His movements were carefully made; not one step was made by accident. She knew that Snape had only come because of her, but so long as James survived, she couldn’t have cared less. 

“Because he’s dying,” Lily said, standing. Her eyes sparked with anger. “He’s dying because of what you did, and if you had any remorse at all, any regard for your immediate health and wellbeing, you’d do whatever it takes,” 

“Lily,” Severus breathed, his eyes wide and searching. He took several steps toward her, and Lily balked. Severus had cursed James, almost killed him and injured him beyond repair; he wasn’t who he used to be. They weren’t friends, and Severus had made it very clear where his allegiances lie. But if he was helping James to gain her favour, she could use that to her advantage. 

To her surprise, Mr. Potter took stepped beside her, and Severus stopped, his expression bare but unreadable. Lily hadn’t before appreciated that James’ father was the spitting image of his son, older and taller perhaps, but the same in every way. Even though his only son was unconscious and clinging to life, no fear appeared on Mr. Potter’s face. He was calm and reassuring, nodding at her to continue. But when he turned to face Severus, it was intimidating and fierce, an expression she hadn’t seen on James before. 

“I’ve kept my word,” Severus said, his eyes trained on hers. “I swallowed my words because of you. And I kept them there if you hadn’t noticed. No one ever heard from me what happened in the Shrieking Shack,” 

“Which was as much to save your own skin as it was anyone else’s,” Sirius said sharply. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Mr. Potter said, shooting a sharp glance at Sirius.

“And it’s appreciated,” Lily said, taking a shaky step forward. Lily had grown used to the talk from James and the others of Snape stalking her, but she couldn’t put truth to the claim. But now that Lily watched Snape standing in front of her with a wand against his throat, she couldn’t think of how she had ever been friends with him. All of the love she had held for him soured into disgust. Severus inhaled quickly, but Lily set her expression and looked up carefully. “And not understated. But he’s dying because of your actions, your homemade dark magic, and you’ll do as you’ve said,” 

“James saved your life when I deemed it forfeit,” Sirius snarled, pushing his wand deeper into Snape’s neck. “Lupin would’ve killed you that day in the woods, but James saved you at great personal expense. He could’ve been expelled because of you!” 

“Because of me,” Snape said in a deadly whisper. Sirius pushed his wand in further, a dozen curses on his lips. 

“Who else?” 

“If I remember correctly, it was you who lured me into the Whomping Willow in the first place. It wouldn’t have just been Potter’s head on the chopping block, but yours as well,” 

“But my son saved you,” Mrs. Potter said from the other side of the room. “Despite a deep cost to himself, he might’ve died coming to your aid. He saved you once before; you owe him a debt,” 

“I owe Potter nothing,” 

“No?” Sirius asked. “Nothing, you say? The night that Amelia Bones went missing, we went after a shot in the dark, rescued her and brought her back safely. And later, Moody took the blame, but it wasn’t Moody, was it? Something felt off about the whole tirade, something I couldn’t place at the time, but it was you, wasn’t it? Amelia didn’t remember who kidnapped her; someone had placed a botched memory charm on her. Enough to forget the face, but not the presence, am I right?” 

“You can’t prove anything,” Snape said sharply. 

“No, I’m not finished,” Sirius said, folding his arms and staring Snape dead in the eye. “Later, when Moody confessed, James was told as Head Boy to investigate Moody’s claim. He found nothing to substantiate Moody having committed the initial act, and his previous history of excellence in the Auror department, as well as character witnesses, found nothing to suggest such an act was of his own doing,” 

Snape remained silent, but the continued scrutiny was beginning to have its effect; a twitch began over his left eyebrow. He didn’t look intimidating; the adolescent scruff that she had once found so manly and attractive repulsed her. He was shaking, and his fear and bottled-up rage at this confrontation left little doubt in her mind who she trusted and loved more than any other in this world. Sev had lost her trust and humiliated her in public, turned his back on her when she needed him most and nearly killed James in the process. 

“And later, just last month, I was investigating you, Snape, but my brother as well, and you’ll never guess what I found in the Muggle Studies classroom—“

“ENOUGH!” Snape shouted, his eyes red and bulging. “What do you want from me? Are you going to tell your precious Dumbledore? McGonagall? The Minister for Magic?” 

“No, but I daresay that your action in this matter would aid your position, precarious as it may be,” Mr. Potter interjected, and Sirius took a step back in surprise. “Thank you, Sirius,” 

Sirius sat back down on James’ bed like he was forced to, but his demeanour had changed entirely. He was closed off, Lily noticed. And completely unemotional, as if the past few minutes hadn’t affected him a fig. It was startling to watch. 

“Now, if you please,” Mr. Potter said calmly, “the counter-curse,” 

Snape fiddled with his wand, flipping it in his hands in a way Lily had seen him do hundreds of times before. But it was different, almost pre-meditated. “And if I refuse?”

“There are less pleasant ways of extracting your aid,” Lupin said cooly, taking his wand in hand. “if you so choose to break our agreement,” 

“You’ll uphold your end of the bargain?”

“We will,” Mr. Potter said staunchly. “Without compromise or contradiction. It will be exactly as agreed upon,”

Snape hesitated before taking a step towards James’ bedside. He moved with reluctance, his steps short and calculated. He flipped his wand in his palm, and Lily watched carefully as he approached. James didn’t look hesitant or upset, but his face was set in a way she hadn’t seen before. The two boys made eye contact, and the expression on James’ face was calm but intensely focused where Snape looked apprehensive, almost afraid.

“We won’t retaliate,” Mr. Potter said firmly, his own wand held tightly in his grasp. “There are no conditions, no expectations besides what we’ve discussed. We won’t go to Dumbledore; if you heal him, you’ll hear no more of this.” 

“It’s more than he deserves,” Lupin said, standing beside Sirius. 

“But it’s what James deserves,” Mrs. Potter said softly, moving to stand with her husband. Watching them felt like walking in on a private moment, a family moment, a mother and son together at the end of the day. James looked so peaceful, so alive, more present because his mother was there. “And you’ll do what we’ve discussed,” 

Snape nodded jerkily, head down as Sirius’ wand pressed into his back to James’ bedside. He drew his wand out from a pocket in his robes and approached James. With a wave of his wand, the bandages that crisscrossed his chest broke apart and lay in strips by his side.

In the open air, the cuts into James’ flesh looked too painful to be real. The skin was pale and waxy, the red gashes bleeding as they were uncovered. 

Snape swallowed and raised his wand.

He moved slowly, the counter-curse was melodic and mournful, and the deep cuts on James’ chest, once uncovered, were painful to look at. Lily watched in abject horror as Snape’s wand moved over James’ wounds, the blood flow congealing and then slowing. He murmured the incantation slowly, and the flesh began to knit itself back together. James watched Snape’s face as he worked, not in condemnation or anger, but a sort of soft-focus that Lily didn’t fully understand. They hated each other, didn’t they? 

Sirius’ expression was different though; his attention was squared entirely on Severus, the tip of his wand pressed deeply into the back of Snape’s robes. As it passed, each moment felt spring-loaded, almost as if both parties knew that if the other broke the deal, all pretences towards civility would have passed.

The minutes ticked by like hours before the last of James’ cuts sealed, and James’ body became whole once again. Snape motioned for the bottle of dittany, and Mr. Potter handed it to him without a word, dropping the silvery liquid into the healing scars as Snape directed. The potion helped, but the wounds were deep, and even the dittany couldn’t erase the severity of his scars. 

“You saved my life, and I’ve saved yours,” Snape said quietly, his eyes fixed on James. “My debt is paid,” 

James nodded, and Lily’s eyes followed Snape as he walked to the other end of the Hospital Wing, out the door and out of sight. 

Sirius dropped his wand in relief as he and the other Marauders’ crowded around James’ bed. Mrs. Potter seized James’ hand and kissed his forehead, but Mr. Potter stayed with Lily, one of his hands clasped with a fatherly affection on her shoulder. She looked over at him, and tears shone in his eyes, so like James’. It had been so long since someone had looked at her like that, without judgement or condemnation, a father who genuinely cared about their child. All at once, without thinking about it, she leant back into Mr. Potter’s embrace, tears of relief running down her cheeks. 


	20. Peter Losing Wendy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James continues to heal from his attack, Marlene and Tony find something suspicious in the rafters of the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Cause I knew you  
Steppin' on the last train marked me like a bloodstain  
I knew you  
Tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy  
I knew you  
Leavin' like a father, running like water, I  
And when you are young, they assume you know nothing  
-Cardigan, Taylor Swift

Lily woke up earlier than James did, and when she shifted to go to the loo, she was careful to leave him quietly. The Healers and Madame Pomfrey had only just released him from the Hospital Wing on strict orders to rest and not hurt himself further. The scars that crossed his chest and belly were deep but superficial. Snape had done what he had said he would— James was going to be okay. Even now, as she considered him from across the bedroom, the stress and pain from the day before seemed to fade in the light of day. He looked peaceful and happy, smiling in his dreams.

The morning dawned quiet and still; the raging storm from the days prior had faded and calmed. Snow had drifted into glittering masses against the castle and shining silver and gold in the early morning light across the grounds. Lily took a flannel from the cabinet and wiped the frost from the window, but the sunlight was bright and thin. Despite the light, the air was cold, and the tiles beneath her toes encouraged slippers at her earliest convenience.

She toed on a pair of James' bed shoes absently, picking up his watch from the vanity. It was traditional for wizards to receive a watch from their parents when they came of age. James kept his well: the gold was still unmarred and clean, the stars and moons turning and sliding against one another, counting the seconds as they passed. The inscription on the back was brusque and short: _to our son in the event of his seventeenth birthday, much love from Mother and Father. _She hadn't understood it until she heard Sirius and Lupin talking about it. It was a family heirloom, passed from father to son for four generations of Potter's. Sirius' was an heirloom as well, a relic of Mrs. Potter's brother. No such tradition existed for women who came of age, certainly not for Muggleborns, at the very least. Lily's seventeenth had come and gone with little fanfare and celebration. January was a cold month, and familial affection for momentous occasions was not expected or hoped for. The doctors had diagnosed her mother with depression, and if her sister noticed her birthday before it passed, she said nothing.

The gold of his watch was cold on her palm, and the cool air of the loo helped to distance herself from her thoughts. It was only half-six on a Saturday morning, too early for thoughts better suited to late-night musings. Before they had left the night prior, James' parents had invited her to join them for Christmas, and Lily had answered without hesitation. There was a time where she might've refused out of principle, but in all honesty, where else might she have gone?

Certainly not home, to be pinched and fitted and spoken down to by her sister. From what her mother had said in her last letter, Christmas would be a small affair with the wedding scheduled for New Years's Eve. This was her last Christmas at school, and Petunia wasn't going to ruin it for her.

The thought of spending an extended period with James and his mates— outside of school's confinement— thrilled her. What would it be to spend the Christmas hols being with the people she loved, doing things she enjoyed? How pleasant, she thought with a roll of happiness down her spine, to be looked at with love and acceptance instead of hostility and suspicion?

Another part of her was curious; she had wondered after the Potter Mansion for years. The Marauders had spent their holidays together in Yorkshire for the past six years. She knew the estate itself was large, bordering an extensive forest with a lake at the centre. It had a ballroom, a great hall, a grand staircase. She was used to Sirius and James speaking about it (loudly, and more likely than not intentionally in her earshot) about the parties they had thrown, the shootings, the Friday to Monday's. They were wizards, of course, but countrymen first.

The girls James had dated in the past had never been invited, much to their disappointment. Lily knew she should be honoured to have been asked, but there was a small, contrite part of her who was excited not for the precedence, but for the intimacy of it. They had only known one another from school; what was he like at home, in his element? Had his family's estate changed him as much as Hogwarts had?

The man sleeping in the other room had grown into himself before her eyes. It seemed like years ago that she had heard rumours of James hexing Sev on the marble staircase. Had it only been two months? Had James not insulted and belittled him, broken his book-bag and shattered a bottle of ink in front of his peers? And then, after James' attack two days ago, how had he watched and waited patiently as the person who undoubtedly cursed him undid the Dark Magic and healed him, and James had _thanked _him? She was too stunned and anxious in the moment to think twice about it, but later, when she and James were in bed together did she think frankly about how extraordinary it was.

Her discombobulated thoughts of the previous twenty-four hours and beyond left her awake at night, thoughts tumbling through her mind as James slept. Why, _why _was Amelia kidnapped? Who had killed all those people in Hogsmeade? Why were Regulus Black and Severus caught in Hogsmeade? Was there corruption in the Auror department or the Ministry of Magic? Why was Crouch hiding in the bowels of the castle? What had Dumbledore asked him in his office? And why was he in the Hospital Wing, only to disappear while she was in the loo?

The number of questions only seemed to increase with time, while the answers remained few and far between. Sirius remained stoic and closed off; indeed, why _he _had been chasing his brother and Snape in Hogsmeade was a question asked and answered by nobody. She poured her attention into James and Alice, comforting, healing, applying salves and listening ears. While in actuality, she was fighting exhaustion and confusion. The rumours surrounding Hogwarts' permanent closure until the end of the war swelled and ballooned with a lack of news. The Aurors had called upon Dumbledore to end the term early, send the students home lest another be taken away or injured beyond repair, but there had as of yet been no reply. The whispers and gossip about Mulciber's expulsion after Mary's attack begun once again, as if resurrected from the dead. Marlene and Amelia tried to shield the worst of it from Mary, but what could they do in the end? Hogwarts was a pot on the verge of boiling over, and the worry had reached Mary at long last. She admitted herself to the Hospital Wing that very afternoon, and no one but Tony and the Matron had seen her since.

It had been almost a week since Frank went missing; since his parents came at Dumbledore's request, and James had been attacked. It seemed like they were connected somehow, but Lily couldn't trace the adhesion point. Frank and James had very little in common; Gryffindors, of course, but what else? Both were Quidditch players; both were reliable with a wand, intelligent and brave. Neither had any proclivity towards the Dark Arts, and both had a running familiarly with Dumbledore. The last point, in particular, caught her attention as she rubbed her thumb over James' watch. Where had Dumbledore been during this ordeal? When Frank was kidnapped, he was out of the school in London for a hearing. When James was injured in Hogsmeade, was he not in France meeting with the Headmaster of Beauxbatons? When they needed him, the brightest wizard of their age was tantalizingly out of reach, unable to be reached or summoned by those who needed him most. Lily tried not to be embittered by his absence, but how could she not be? Where was the headmaster when his school needed him?

Would James had a better chance of an earlier recovery had Dumbledore been there?

Both of his parents had told her otherwise, repeatedly, when she had asked. The very best Healers from London had been summoned and had done all they could, given the circumstances. But their son was still marred and would bear the scars for the rest of his life. If they had any opinions on the long term effects of Snape's attack, they failed to share it. Perhaps the Potter stiff upper lip was inherited and not developed over time.

Lily didn't fully grasp the conditions of the agreement Snape, Sirius, Marlene and Lupin had agreed to. Certainly, their mummed voices in the matter were a by-product of the severity of James' condition, but couldn't they have agreed to more partial terms? Letting Severus leave without punishment or further reprimand seemed unfair. James had very nearly died.

It seemed like it happened in a flood, the emotions of the moment, the reality that she could lose him before she had ever truly _had_ him. At that moment, his continued existence and well-being was outside of her control, outside of anyone's control, and her reaction to the thought that he could simply fade from existence petrified her. They had grown so close, and after so many weeks together sleeping in his bed, how could she fall asleep without his body tangled around her own? Even that night spent apart in Gryffindor tower before joining him in the Common Room had felt like absolution.

For years she had watched him carefully, at first for signs of weakness, but later with admiration. He was too trusting, too honest. He loved with abandon, unaware and unwilling to accept the heartbreak to follow. He was a gentleman, someone who put the needs of his friends before his own. And he was _stubborn, _headstrong. James would never willingly abandon someone who loved him.

For five years, she had watched him through furtive little glances— the way he played with his hands when he talked, unconsciously unbuttoning and re-buttoning his jumper. The method to which he styled his hair with his wand, leaving the mess of curls artfully dishevelled enough to look like he just crawled off his broom—just so. He reminded her of the smell of coffee brewing, the clinking of cutlery on plates and the murmuring sound of many voices speaking at once. James Potter was oxford's beneath jumpers, the crisp collar on soft wool, scruffy Chuck Taylor's and ripped jeans. She watched anxiously as he watched her, loving him from afar.

But as wonderful as he was, as wonderful as they were _together, _Lily was beginning to learn that it wasn't someone else who could heal her, make her well. She had lost so many people, her dad, Snape, her sister. But it wasn't just losing people; she had to find herself before she could love someone else the way they deserved to be loved; the way James Potter deserved to be loved.

He didn't need her excuses, her half-hearted approval and acceptance. Because who could love her, _accept_ her, more than herself? And that acceptance began with the realization, bitter though it was, that Petunia had broken her heart. She had abandoned Lily like only a sister can, and her reluctance to accept the olive branch in the form of a salmon pink bridesmaid dress stemmed not from her anxiety over the wedding. It had nothing to do with Petunia; it had to do with the fact that as much as Lily tried to hide it— she had never forgiven her sister for what she had done.

It seemed so silly now, a childhood squall turned adolescent storm. Lily had left Petunia behind, through no fault of her own, and Snape had torn them apart. How had she not seen it, not noticed? Hadn't she been sitting beside him when Severus had broken a branch and nearly killed Petunia? How had she allowed it to happen? It was never sister against sister, not even Snape against the Evans' girls. It was always magic and prejudice and abandonment against hope, against love. Petunia loved her as she was eleven and entranced with sisterly affection. And when she had grown and put childish things aside, her sister hadn't accepted who she had grown to be— a Lily Evans who had magic, who was better, stronger, more beautiful than plain Muggle Petunia.

Lily opened the door to the loo, a fire in her eyes she hadn't expected and tore a piece of parchment from her desk, flipping it over to its unused side. She wiped her hand over her eyes as tears began to fall, the letter to her sister growing with depth and emotion. The feelings she hadn't admitted to herself, let alone anyone else. The deepest recesses of her heart barred for her sister in anticipation of her wedding day. She said all the things she wished she'd dared to say five years ago, ten even. How long had she been carrying a bruised and broken heart? How long had she blamed her deep unhappiness on someone else's emotions? How long had she been giving power to the thought that someone else would make her happier than she could be on her own? Lily started as something soft and furry brushed against her ankles and picked up her lovely ginger cat with a smile wider than she had smiled in years. Her sister may never forgive her, never love her the way she once had. But what did that matter? Lily had chosen herself to love and cherish and hold close. And no matter if it broke her heart, it was whole for the very first time in a very long time. _Lily Evans didn't need anyone else's approval to be happy._

She opened the window with a sniff, and James' great eagle owl landed with a flash of feathers. She deposited a mouse on the windowsill with a great deal of dignity and flashed her beautiful amber eyes in Lily's direction. Never before had appreciated the promptness of an owl.

Lily sealed her letter and wrote her family home address in Cokeworth before tying it to Atalanta's leg. Lily ruffled the feathers between her ears and watched as she took off, her wings taking her up and away.

Lily returned to James' bed with a lightness and easiness of figure and expression she had felt in years, tucking herself into his arms. The sheets were warm and soft, and the sudden rush of emotion brought a heaviness to her eyes. Without having to rest or consider the depths of her thoughts, she fell asleep.

…

It might've been hours or minutes that passed before James woke with a groan, the enormous weight of pain sitting heavily on his chest. It felt like he had been ripped apart and forced back together, the Muggle sutures piecing him together like Frankenstein's monster. He felt fairly monstrous as well, hungry and sore and in desperate need of a potion to rid him of his pain. He sat up and perused his options before taking the thick plum potion in hand, downing the vile in one.

Beside him, Lily slept on, the frizzy mass of ginger curls hiding her face. She slept on her belly, one leg hiked up, and the other stretched long, her arms tucked up by her face. He had been too exhausted the night before to do much more than take the potions the Healers had left for him and flop into bed, trying not to feel embarrassed by the fact that Sirius and Peter had dressed him and helped clean his teeth for bed. Sirius had made a comment of stepping into Lily's shoes, so to speak, in helping with the particulars of his bedtime routine. He brusquely dismissed them (she only had once, he thought, blushing to the tips of his toes. She had seen, he was nearly positive; that time he had been particularly gutsy and undressed to his pants before slipping into bed with her. But this was different, clinical, the act of undressing and redressing an invalid who was unable to do so themselves. There was nothing sexy or risqué in helping a man button his buttons and shave his chin, but the implications that Lily was the one who attended to him, if not in actuality, then in assumption, _God. _Would she, he wondered if he asked?)

Despite the persistent feelings of embarrassment intermittently shot with growing helplessness, the thought of Lily Evans helping him put on his socks sent a thrill down his spine. And hadn't he been injured in the act of heroism, following a lead about Frank's disappearance? Did she fancy heroes? She must, he thought with a smirk, hadn't she had that poster of Ezra Warrington from the Wasps on her dorm wall for three years? Did she fancy him more for his unlikely story of survival?

It hadn't quite been two days since he had been discharged from the Hospital Wing with strict instructions to stay out of trouble. Lily's expression once he woke from the fever had been something was unlikely to forget. She looked so afraid, so thin and exhausted, so willing to accept his imminent survival as fact that when she flooded his sleepy and confused mind with queries about the attack, he hadn't been able to keep the smile off his lips. _Lily cared about him_. Cared enough, apparently, to sleep on his mother's lap in the corridor off of the Hospital Wing waiting for him to wake. She had stayed; they had all stayed and hoped for him to recover, to react positively to the Healer's treatments for hours and hours. He couldn't decide if he was touched or annoyed (hadn't they any number of feather beds waiting for them in their dormitories?) at their hope-ridden tenacity. Of course, without question, he'd've done the same. Perhaps with a touch of transfiguration, perhaps, in exchange for staying close by.

He moved slowly, mindful of the tenderness in his shoulders and belly, and leant forward to kiss the shell of her ear, his lips hovering over the soft skin he found there. She tucked her face further into her pillow and made a noise of discontent that made him smile.

"Good morning, Evans," he whispered, the puffs of his breath brushing loose hairs aside. She stretched languorously, the tips of her toes sliding against his as she woke slowly, turning to face him.

"Good morning, Potter," she breathed, blinking her eyes open. They were so close, nose to nose, and James tilted his chin to kiss the place between her eyebrows. She looked so soft and warm in the light of day, her eyes laughing and bottle-green as she considered him. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, you know me," James said, falling back against her pillow with a suppressed groan. "Right as rain, I could run a mile,"

"Could you now?" said Lily.

"Maybe even two," he said, reaching for the nightstand for his specs. "Quidditch pitch and back twice. Even through the snow." He paused as he adjusted them on his nose and then leant an arm over her shoulders as he settled back into the sheets. "Is it still snowing? Maybe not in the snow,"

"No, it's stopped," Lily said, blinking the sleepiness out of her eyes with a soft smile. "It is deep; that's quite a pronouncement to be making so early, Mr. Potter,"

"I'd do anything for you,"

James turned to face her after he spoke, and Lily's breath caught with the honesty to which he spoke. It was so like him, to cut through the easier conversation for the bluntness of his innate honesty. As long as they had been together, James had been nothing if persistent with his affections for her, and she started in the realization of how infrequently she had reciprocated. Surely he knew, she thought. Surely he knew how much she cared for him?

"And I for you," she said, rubbing her nose against his, closer than close. "And that determination to do my will would be better suited, in my opinion, to staying still and following the Matron's orders than racing about the grounds in the snow,"

"As you wish," James said in an exhale, taking her hand in his. "And I must say, this is a far more wonderful past-time,"

"What's that?"

"Curled up in bed with you," he said with a grin. "You and your bushy hair,"

"It is not _bushy,"_

"Course it is, as bushy as they come," James said, pulling a loose curl only to watch it snap back against her head. "Frizzy and wonderful,"

"Oh, so now it's frizzy too?" Lily said with a laugh, sitting up and smacking him with her pillow.

"Oh, I fold," James said with a laugh, batting away her advances with upheld hands. "White flag in all, you win,"

"Oh, I won't back down so easily," Lily said, tossing her pillow to the side before moving to rest astride his hips. "If you intend to withdraw, I intend to draw nothing short of your complete submission,"

James looked up at her with shocked admiration as to this _vixen _Lily Evans had become. The surprise must've shown on his face because Lily backed down almost immediately, moving from his hips to the other side of the bed in a flash. She didn't appear embarrassed or uncomfortable but truly upset, as if she had gone too far. Lily must have assumed that she was hurting him, agitating his wounds? She hadn't, and it was something else altogether that had drawn the shock and utter delight to his expression. _God, _she had been sitting on top of him, and he was still _very _interested in seeing where she was planning on going with this. He sat up and pulled her by the hand, leading her back to his side.

"No, it's not that," he said. "You just surprised me; I'm sorry if I worried you,"

"No, you're right, it's too soon," Lily said in a rush, wringing her hands in the way she did when she was nervous. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to rush you—"

James leant forward and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her soundly. He tucked his fingers deep into her hair, revelling in the fact that he could do this now. He could kiss her in their bed with nothing besides a thin piece of cotton separating him from his wildest desires. She relaxed into the kiss and moved her knee from his thigh to the other side of his hip, settling comfortably above him.

"I'm not in pain, so please do continue whatever you had planned for this morning," James asked cheekily, blowing a piece of his fringe out of his eyes to make her laugh. She rested her palms on his chest, and James' heart beat so loudly he was sure she could hear it. Her fingers ran against the soft fibres of his shirt, the long, ruby nails sending shivers down his spine. She looked anxiously to the door, but James brought his hands around her head and kissed the crown of her head.

"No one's coming," he said, leaning his forehead gently against hers. He wanted so badly to take her, to bring things to the next level, but to what extent? How willing was he to impugn on her honour without her surefire consent? Did she even want him…like _that? _Was that where they were these days? As much as he wanted her, as much as he loved her, he couldn't take the final leap, those last teetering steps, without her saying she wanted this. As much as he wanted her to feel loved and be comfortable with him, with _them, _even the idea of _them_, she had to do it first. He'd never forgive himself if he forced himself on her because _God, _what would that make him? What would she think? That he was just another lust-driven bastard in search of pleasure without pressure with no strings attached? Lily wasn't some tart, she was _Evans, _and he cared about her too much to take this from her.

"I love it when you do that," James said quietly.

"What, this?" Lily said, running her nails down his chest, watching with fascination as James leant back and _groaned_, his nerves misfiring as she leant forward and kissed the place where his shoulder met his neck, shifting long and languorously against him.

Lily settled between his thighs, hands bracketing her head as she kissed him, each kiss more desperate and needy than the last. James ran his hands up and down her sides, feeling the thin catch of her bra beneath her nightgown. She let out a breathy gasp as James' hands danced at the hem, his tapered fingers sending waves of pleasure throughout her body.

"Yes," she said, "yes, yes, _yes,"_

James bent his knees as he shifted her nightgown up, inches and centimetres of skin exposed for his eyes only. His hands shook with fear, with delayed gratification, the pure _pleasure _at finally touching her where he hadn't before. She lifted her hips and then her shoulders as he tugged her nightgown up over her bum and hips, laying kisses and hot breaths over her belly. He leant forward, his hands spanning the width of her ribcage as she panted with exertion above him.

Lily, then, hooked her knee with his and flipped herself beneath him, not adjusting her nightie as it pulled higher with the movement.

It wasn't the first time that James had the pleasure of this particular advance, but the sight of the underside of Lily Evans' bra stopped him in his tracks. He knew she had lacy knickers from the few times she had left them lying about in her room, but to see them on her was something else entirely. Her knickers and bra matched, the same white lace knotted with flowers and swirls, gently moulding to her form. She looked demure but not quite shy, anxious, but not nervous. It was the farthest they had ever gone together, and James' heart beat a mile a minute as he shifted above her, his hands dancing on the hem of her nightgown.

"May I?" he said softly, meeting her eyes with trepidation. She nodded and smiled, guiding his hands to the hem, helping him pull the thin cotton up and over her head, tossed without another thought to the other side of his room.

Finally, she was bare beneath him, bare and wanting, and James shifted his hips to discourage the flush of blood that was becoming more and more apparent as time passed. He wouldn't, _couldn't_ ruin this. Not now.

"You're so beautiful," James breathed, peppering kisses over her collarbone and the upper swells of her breasts, hovering as he was above her. "_God, _you're so beautiful,"

"James," she whispered, pulling his face to hers as she kissed her, relaxing her mouth against him. He started as she kissed him deeply and then responded in kind, leaning and moving against her in a way that felt natural, instinctual. She pulled away with a gasp, and James kissed the column of her throat as she caught her breath, ravishing her with kisses and love. The small part of his brain still capable of cognizant thought marvelled at the realization that he was still fully dressed, shirt, trousers and pants, all. He wanted so much to be bare before her, for her to see him the way that he saw her. How much he wanted her to know that she was it for him, there would be no other that could stir him with want the way she could. Without thinking, without doing anything in particular, just by _existing_, he would love her this way until the end of his life.

"Off," she breathed, her voice throaty and thick. When he caught her hands on the buttons of his shirt, he helped unbutton and then discard. "Trousers, all,"

"Yes," he said under his breath, his fingers thick and uncoordinated as they undid the tie on his trousers, raising his hips to lower them from his body. Lily's hands rested just above his navel as he did so, hands rising and falling as he breathed short and fast. He pulled her to him, hands spanning her waist as they kissed skin to skin, her belly soft and warm against his.

"More," she panted, leaning her forehead to his. "More, James,"

"Lily," he said, his hands dancing over the strap of her bra, the band of her knickers. They were so close, dancing the fine line between absolute pleasure and disaster. He wanted this to be good for her; she deserved nothing less than complete admiration and gentleness, eyes focused on her and her alone. But how far dare he go? He wasn't under any delusions of saving himself for tradition's sake, but this wasn't a shag with some nameless girl in a broom cupboard; this was very likely Lily Evans' debut performance. And as much as he loved her, he needed to be gentle with her. He needed to be tender, attentive; he needed to push back every instinct demanding immediate and thorough satisfaction. She deserved it, this and more.

"Are you sure?" he said, his voice quiet but firm above her. She nodded breathlessly, shifting her hips against his in a way that left little to the imagination. James suppressed a moan and fell to his elbows above her, pressed more closely together than they had ever been. Sweat slicked between their bodies, and Lily moved against him, sliding together again and _again_, that every thought except those of her and the sensations their bodies moving as one faded into mist.

_How long he had waited for her, _he thought, his eyes rolling back into his head in pleasure. _Why had they not done this years ago?_

In the back of his head, a ringing alarm sounded, but then Lily leant forward and kissed him, and the thought shifted. _Was that..._

And then the caterwauling wail of the proximity alarm sounded, and James pulled away from her as if by force.

Lust was replaced with fear, and then by irritation. There was a knock at the door, and James fell back against the sheets with a frustrated sigh. Lily untangled herself from the sheets and rummaged through James' cupboard, tossing one of his Quidditch jerseys over her head, unperturbed, apparently, by the sudden and unexpected turn of events. James took a sudden intake of breath as she pulled her hair away from her face, grinning like a fool at the sight.

"It's a Sunday morning, whoever it is," Lily said to their surprise visitor, taking her wand in hand and undoing James' protection charms one after the other.

"Uh, is James there?" a hesitant voice called from behind the door.

"Peter," James said, pulling the sheets over his hips and his arm over his eyes, a smile on his lips despite the panic and irritation at an unwelcome interruption.

The door opened a crack before Peter let himself in, dressed and cognizant despite the early hour. James watched as Peter took in the sight of their obvious continual cohabitation, James' typically meticulously organized bedroom mixed with Lily's messiness. He watched with a grin as Lily pulled a pair of her knickers off the open drawer of his chifforobe and Vanished them under her breath as Peter looked around, clueless. James rustled behind him, pulling Lily's discarded pillow over his hips and sat up.

"Can I help you?" James asked, leaning on an elbow in a play of careful nonchalance.

"Yeah," Peter said, swallowing. "I mean, yeah. Padfoot sent me. Tony and Marlene found something in the rafters above the seventh floor and wanted everyone there before they checked it out,"

"Thanks, Peter," Lily said, smiling softly. "I need to get dressed. Five minutes?" Peter turned to her, blushing before making his excuses and scurrying out of the room.

Lily shut the door and cast a wordless charm before walking back towards his bed, a smile on her face as James tossed her pillow aside. "It's almost a conspiracy at this point," she said.

"What'd you mean?" James said, falling against the sheets as she sat on her heels above him. She wiggled her hips as she settled, and James' breath caught, just as interested as he was before they were interrupted. She smoothed a piece of his fringe that had settled in his eyes, tucking it behind his ear.

"Are you sure?" She asked between kisses, looking down on him with a crease between her eyebrows. "Now? Are you sure? Your friends are waiting,"

"Let them wait," he said, kissing the hollow of her throat, the top of her collarbone, the swell of her breast. "You gave us five minutes, remember? There's a lot I can do to you in five minutes,"

...

Sirius paced the passage between the strange suit of armour and Lily and James' doorway while Remus watched in amusement. He chanced a look at his watch, nearly fifteen minutes had passed since they sent Peter in with summons, and Sirius looked very nearly ready to hit the roof in annoyance.

"How long can it take to throw on some trousers?" He asked angrily, checking Euphemia's brother's watch with a groan of frustration. "This information is time-sensitive; you did tell him that?"

"Course," Peter said, lighting and extinguishing his wand light absently, leaning against the wall beside Remus.

"Then what could possibly be taking so long?" Sirius exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. It was getting long again, Lupin noted with a smile. Long and unruly, when they had shared a dormitory, James fixed Sirius's hair nearly every morning. But now that he lived separately, and Lily's hair (and usually, Remus had no doubt) kept him thoroughly occupied, Sirius' normally carefully coiffed style had relaxed into a knot at the base of his skull. Out of the way, often held together with his wand, if not a spare piece of cloth, and more than once, Remus had started as the strong line of his jaw became more obvious with stress or nerves. After all these years, Sirius' play at nonchalance was no mystery to him, and as much as he hated it, Lupin could read Sirius Black like a book.

His annoyance most likely had little to do with the news Marlene and Tony had delivered a half-hour prior, nor the delay of Lily and James' appearance. Lupin knew that walking in on their dormitory in the early hours of a Sunday morning spelled for an unwelcome eyeful. But he also knew that Peter was blasé enough to either not notice or be entirely indifferent to the likely scenario of walking in on one of his best mate's getting his rocks off. This is why they sent him in the first place and why Sirius continued to seethe in the corridor. Not because James was late, but because he had found satisfaction and happiness with someone other than his mates. James was growing up, and despite all Sirius had done to keep James alive and well, bartering with Snape under stiff stakes to undo his homemade dark magic and carrying him back to the castle after the attack. Despite all of that, and although James was supposed to be _resting _and not shagging Lily Evans' brains out, Sirius had been cast aside. Left out as James moved forward with his life, and Sirius didn't know how to handle the immediate and thorough loss of being the sole recipient of James Potter's inner thoughts.

It was a loss to all of them, sure, but James and Sirius had been friends for nearly six months before Remus and Peter joined the fray. Both were Purebloods with strong feelings towards the unfairness of blood purity. Both were Quidditch fiends, both fancied sweets and Puddlemore and the fit barmaid of the Three Broomsticks. Sirius knew that James had fancied Lily Evans for four years before his affections turned from conquest to a love match. And a small part of Remus wondered if Sirius thought Lily was just a phase to James. Didn't he see how much she meant to him?

"I'm sure they won't be much longer," Remus said finally, pulling his cigarette case out of his pocket and balancing one on his lips before tossing it to Sirius. Remus lit it with his wand and watched with bemusement as Sirius settled and quieted down, lighting his own and leaning against the wall with a sigh.

James and Lily appeared five minutes later, a comically blissed-out expression dotting both of their faces. Lupin snorted and took his wand in hand as Sirius stood up, his arms crossed and cigarette loose on his lips. Although Lupin was the tallest of the Marauders, and that James was taller than Sirius by an inch and a half, the look that Sirius imposed on his best mate was mutinous. "The others are waiting," he said, crushing the butt of his cigarette under his heel. "Shall we?"

"Lead the way," James said.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! This is why I upped the content rating of this piece :)   
I'm not sure how far this will go, but this story is coming to a close. However, news on that front is that I'm preparing to write a sequel! I originally slated this story to go from September to New Year's Eve, but it feels more natural for me to split them into two pieces. To Just Forget the World perhaps has two chapters left, maybe more, maybe less, and the new story will follow directly after. Stay tuned to my Tumblr (@xxxvioletskyxxx) for more information :)   
xoxo   
V


	21. That Mourns in Lonely Exile Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and the others leave the Head Dormitory to find Frank Longbottom, absolving their differences along the way.

James followed as Sirius led him and the others through the castle. The early morning light was bright, obnoxiously so, highlighting all the shadows beneath Sirius' eyes, as well as the irritated expression. As much as he tried to hide it, James couldn't help but catching Lily's eye as they walked, but all attempts to block the sights and sounds of their harried snogging session from his mind were moot.

They had dressed hastily before leaving their dormitory, and now that he knew what she wore beneath corduroy and denim, he was eager to continue what they started. And to think that she had wanted to go _further_ had they not been interrupted was singular and glorious. After Peter left—James would be mistaken to assume he hadn't lost track of time—he had been tempted to take full advantage of the time provided. He was a cad, truly. And after James brought a semicolon to their interrupted sentence, she kissed him, and the world seemed far off and suspended in sunlight. They were untouchable, every touch more wonderful than the last.

He wished that they could have the castle to themselves, to be well and truly alone. Was it selfish to think that way? James knew that his friends needed him, relied on him, even. It wasn't fair to pass one off for the other; Lily and the Marauders couldn't possibly oppose one another. And he didn't want a singularity anyway. If he couldn't have his mates and his girl, _God_, what would that even make him? James had never approved of malicious secrets; he had nothing to hide—nothing to be ashamed of. He was proud of the way he could live life with nothing hidden away, no secrets to absolve.

But that wasn't to say that the meantime was any easier; James had felt the burning sensation of Sirius' glare when they met in the corridor. Matched (with a snort from Lily) with a thoroughly amused Remus Lupin, walking by his side.

Lily smiled when their eyes met, and as they walked side by side, she slipped her hand into his. Was it as simple as that? What had he ever been afraid of? Lily wouldn't make him choose; it wasn't mates _or_ birds, were they not all friends together? Hadn't Lily gone to Sirius when they'd rowed, hadn't she asked for Remus when Mary needed Muggle medicine? And for years, hadn't she and Peter been partners in Herbology, working side by side before he and Lily had ever been friends?

James knew his mates were watching as he leant further in love with her, but he wasn't embarrassed, even if he had to remind himself not to be. He had nothing to be ashamed _of; _love wasn't shameful.

His mind sobered as he considered their destination— Marlene and Tony had been scouring the castle for hours, evidently, while he and Lily snogged in their dormitory. Were those his priorities these days? Not a horrible pastime, he thought, but still, was it a noble thought? Was Frank not worthy of freedom and time spent with those he loved just the same as anybody else? Was it wrong to want Lily more than he wanted his friends? What would his father think, James thought, if he were to ask?

His parent's courtship and marriage were decades out of date, and sometimes James forgot that his father was from another time. Fleamont Potter laid the cornerstone of his values on familial loyalty. Before all else, before oneself came the wants and needs of those closest to their hearts. Who composed that family tree these days? Whose needs would James Potter put before all others?

For so long, it had been the Marauders, and now that he had Lily, was it wrong of him to grow out of his principal affection, a _brotherly_ affection— in exchange for a romantic one? James knew that Sirius was fighting to stay neutral in his relationship with Lily. Both were struggling, and James couldn't help but feel like he had left his best mate behind towards something _adult_, something distinctly other and foreign— something that made him stand taller and smile brighter. She was his future, long or short, bright or dull; she was everything he had ever wanted. Life after Hogwarts had for so long seemed a problem for another day, a reality so far into the future that it needed no thought or consideration. But it was already December, and their tenure was drawing to a close. Hogwarts wasn't meant to be theirs forever, and on the day he left forever, he knew who he'd be going with. His mates, his friends, his _Lily_, boarding the boat hand in hand.

Where did that leave Sirius? What would he make of his dizzy daydreams? Would he call them a farce, a bird indeed for thinking of marriage and babies in wartime? Where was his grit, his thoughts of brotherhood and camaraderie?

Sirius had lost so much, and after the attack in Hogsmeade, James felt as if he'd treated Sirius' sacrifices with dismissal. Accidentally so, but with the tension of the deal Sirius and the others had struck with Snape, James thought better of trying his luck. Snape was going to heal him, and James wasn't disillusioned enough to not realize that he would most likely have died of blood loss without Snape's intervention. They needed the slimy son of a bitch, and James tried to keep the sour taste out of his mouth at the memory.

James didn't know how Sirius had bargained Snape to do the spell in the first place; it seemed unlikely to have been anything but dear, but _how _dear? How much dare he press his friends for answers when their intervention had saved his life?

Sirius led them through a familiar path through the castle, and as James walked, he could feel the potion begin to fade and the pain set in.

He had known that it was foolish to engage in a romantic dalliance with his wounds the way they were. He knew better, but he couldn't help it. She was so warm and soft and _alive_, and she needed him. She _wanted _him, she had rested on his hips, demanding submission, and he had fallen without a second thought. And it hadn't hurt at the time, certainly not enough to consider stopping or slowing down.

James wanted to love her on her terms. He had tried so hard to fight the instinct to love her the way _he _wanted to be loved, firmly and thoroughly and without a second thought.

But the way James wanted to be with her couldn't interfere with the broadening respect he felt for her. She deserved to be loved gently, and more than once, he had awoken to her hips snug against his in sleep. He'd moved gingerly away as to not make clear to her the extent of his burgeoning lust for her. She was so beautiful, and he had waited so long, and when she kissed him, it was sunlight and firewhiskey turning through the sky. Lily was the great love of his life, and he wouldn't turn her away when she needed him, when she _wanted_ him.

He tried to mask the severity of his discomfort from Lily; she was worried enough as it was. But his chest felt like it was split in so many places; pieces of his body that were once whole and unmarked were torn apart and hastily stitched back together. More than once, he wondered if Snape had fully healed him or just done the bare minimum to keep him alive and fulfill his promise. James knew Sirius, and a in a pinch Unbreakable Vow was bound to be riddled with loopholes Snape would know how to exploit without breaking the terms.

And even if it was a halfway job, at least he was alive. Perhaps spotting and discomfort was his penance for being stupid enough to get cursed in the first place. Anyway wasn't bleeding so much as spotting; the scabs and two-day-old skin were weak and thin and transparent. The sheets beneath him when he had woke were dotted with blood. James knew that Lily was afraid for him; God, _he _was afraid for him. What if what Snape did to counteract the dark magic hadn't worked? What if everything his friends had done to secure Snape's help was in vain?

James pressed a hand into his side, and a splitting pain exacerbated by the pressure in his torso stopped him in his tracks. He stumbled and reached for the wall, his breath coming short and fast.

The pain was intense and sharp, and beneath his jumper, his flesh felt warm and wet. His hand shook as he prodded the skin of his belly for the source of the pain, but it was everywhere. There was no direct point of impact. His belly seized in pain, and James pressed a fist to his lips to prevent an unwelcome bodily discharge, his steps fumbling and bowlegged.

His belly rolled with nausea, and the stitches shifted as he walked, pulling and rubbing against one another like broken glass. He tried to take a deep breath, to dull the pain, to refocus his eyes, but it was in vain. The potion, he must've taken the wrong one. It shouldn't have worn off so soon.

Remus stopped and turned, his eyes wide with surprise and shock as James slipped down the wall, his eyes unfocused and dim before all else faded away.

…

James woke to the familiar sight of worried faces above him. His eyes flickered in pain, and he felt the skin of his belly stretch painfully before his eyes had fully opened— the skin felt tight and hot like he had a bad sunburn. He pressed a hand to his forehead and blinked his eyes open.

"Oh, thank God," Lily breathed, sitting back against her chair with a sigh of relief.

"Just what did you think you were doing?" The Matron said sharply, pressing a piece of flannel to his forehead as James relaxed against the pillows. "Out of bed, in your condition? It's a miracle you didn't fall down a flight of stairs. You shouldn't be _standing, _much less exploring the castle,"

"The Matron and I had differing opinions on your current abilities," Lily said with a half-smile. Even in a clinical setting with no explicit undertone, James felt himself flush.

"You were discharged with strict instructions, Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey said tartly, flicking her wand in a complicated sort of way. In a flash, the dressings about his belly and chest unwrapped themselves and disappeared, leaving him feeling very bare under her scrutinizing glare. "No getting out of bed, taking your potions on time, and restricting your movements as much as possible until your wounds have _healed_,"

"Yeah, well, plans change," James said, feeling the need to cover himself. He knew it was foolish (hadn't he stripped to his pants in front of Lily just this morning?), but there was a small but steady part of him that was ashamed of the way he looked. It wasn't vanity (wasn't _entirely _vanity, at the very least), but he had been attacked, taken off guard. He hadn't been strong enough to fend off a couple of Slytherin's in hoods; what did Lily think of him now? His reasons for jumping in front of the curse aimed for Sirius were his own, and the way he had done so was confusing to him, even now. Why had he done it? Sirius was quicker with a wand than he was, certainly more familiar with curses and hexes learnt at his mother's knee. He could take care of himself, but James hadn't even hesitated. The curse meant for his best mate had hit him instead, and while James had saved Sirius from this particular affliction he hadn't saved his dignity. There was little else he hated more than pity, and the look in Lily's eyes made him want to turn away. He could hardly bear it.

He looked just past her—enough, with any luck, to be deflecting but not suspicious. He ran a quick hand over his fringe, unconsciously ruffling the hair at the back of his hand for something to do. His eyes widened, and he looked around, expecting to see Sirius and the others, but she was alone. It all came back to him in a sickening wave, had they found Frank? How had he abandoned his friends, not once, but twice?

"The others—" James said imploringly, hoping Lily understood. She shook her head and looked down.

"You need to be worrying about yourself _before _worrying about other people, Mr. Potter," The Matron said, applying a thick green paste to his wounds with her wand. His belly rolled at the smell and was reminded with a flush of nausea that he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. Had it been a full twenty-four hours? He pressed a hand to his mouth and sat up at the Matron's instructions, his breath catching when the new bandages were applied with perhaps more force than necessary. "Has there been any more bleeding?" she asked. James turned away from Lily's earnest expression. He couldn't lie to her; he couldn't face her as he confirmed the hard truth they had both been trying so hard to forget.

"Yes," he said, clutching his wand as his movements exacerbated the pain in his belly. "But not bleeding like it had earlier, mostly spotting. The potions are helping; I must've taken the wrong one this morning," James sat up fully with a shuddering breath, moving to catch the Matron's eye. "Can I go?"

"You were bleeding?" Lily asked, taking hold of a corner of James' sheet. He gripped her hand, not quite able to look at her. "Why didn't you say?"

"Matron?"

"Certainly not," Madam Pomfrey said with a disapproving sniff. "You are to stay here under strict observation until your pain absolves itself. I'll have a tray brought up,"

"What about Evans?" James asked.

"If she can stay quiet and out of the way, I have no objections," The Matron said. "I have no qualms over _small _visiting parties, unlike those high Hippogryphs from St. Mungo's. Telling _me _what to do in my own ward, I couldn't believe the nerve,"

James watched with a hint of amusement as the Matron muttered to herself at the potion cupboard, but turned to Lily instead. She seemed to look _through _him, confident and calm, but also desperately sad. James' heart broke; if only she knew how much he'd never wish to see that look in her eye again. How much he wished that she looked to him not as an invalid, but as protector, provider. As someone who could take care of her, who could love her more than anyone else alive. Didn't she know that she was it for him?

James reached his hand towards hers, inches across the empty sheets, and Lily gripped it with abandon.

"How much longer until he can leave?" Lily asked, watching a tray zoom in through the Hospital Wing's open doors at the Matron's direction. It landed softly on James' lap, and she smiled as he dug in with the vigour of a starving man.

"Ah, now. Not just yet, you need to take this on an empty stomach," the Matron said, handing James a vile of a thin orange potion. He took it without question and resumed his breakfast. "I don't know, Miss Evans. He'll stay under my direction until we can find a long term solution to his wounds. Just _what _Mr. Snape did to him, I'll never know. And just why I agreed to let him—"

"James would've died had he not," Lily said suddenly, and the Matron tutted and left the room, muttering to herself.

Lily couldn't help but look to the door. Where were Sirius and the others? Had they found Frank yet? Was she stupid to have left them behind to wait at James' bedside? She knew that she wouldn't have rested easily had she gone with them, but staying on the sidelines was nearly as unbearable as being with him. If they got into trouble—

"Wait," Lily said, standing and walking towards the open door of the Matron's office. James made a noise of protest, but Lily couldn't help the feeling of dread that had settled in her belly. "Wait, Matron, I have a question,"

Even after seven years at Hogwarts castle, she still hadn't explored every room, and the Matron's office was new to her. The stone walls were cut with stained glass, and a large oak desk reigned supreme in the middle of the room. Large bookcases and cabinets lined with jewel-toned liquids lined the rest of the walls. The Matron was filing through paperwork, a pale blue quill in her hand.

"What is it, Miss Evans?" the Matron asked, looking up.

"It just occurred to me that Mr. Crouch is gone," Lily said, hoping the Matron couldn't see through her fib. "He was here, wasn't he?"

"Mr. Crouch is with the Headmaster," Madam Pomfrey, pulling her spectacles off of her nose. Lily nodded, folding her arms in an attempt to keep them from shaking. "At present, I am under the impression that his business at Hogwarts is his own, and the contents of their conferences are just as much a mystery to me as they are to you,"

"But surely you know what was wrong with him," Lily pressed. "He was your patient,"

"And he is a high ranking Ministry official," the Matron said, folding her hands on her desk. "I am not at liberty to discuss the ailments of those I serve."

"Who told you not to?" Lily asked.

The Matron sighed. "Miss Evans, there is no grand conspiracy. No one tells me what to do or what to say. Mr. Crouch's predicament is not an uncommon one, and misfired memory charms—"

"Ha!" Lily exclaimed, pointing a finger in the Matron's direction, who sighed.

"Be that as it may," the Matron pressed forward. "Mr. Crouch is being personally examined by Professor Dumbledore before returning to London. Now that Professor Dumbledore has returned for the remainder of the term, the Auror's and other Ministry personal will no longer be required. I'm sure the Headmaster will make known to you in due course. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a positive _mountain_ of St. Mungo's paperwork to sort through before teatime."

Lily's mind swirled with information as she walked back to James' bedside, but she stopped short when she recognized the whips of brown hair peeking through the sheets on a bed to the back of the infirmary. Mary was fast asleep, resting peacefully. How had Lily forgotten about her? Mary was suffering just as much as James was, and she had been sidelined, ignored. Lily ran a hand over her forehead and kissed it, squeezing her hand in both of hers.

It was no surprise that things had slipped between the cracks with all that was going on, but was she wrong to assume that it could be connected? Despite the Matron's slip, it still didn't make sense. How _was_ it all connected? It must be, she thought with conviction. It must be, because how else could all these events be separate and unrelated?

She had known when James collapsed that she would stay with him and let the other carry on. She could claim no ulterior motive other than with the knowledge that she wouldn't rest with an easy conscience had she not. She had caught Sirius' eye, and they had split ways without a word spoken. Did they understand one another so well? She had pulled James into her lap with Lupin's help, and once she was sure he was going to be okay, she had watched as they left down the corridor without another word. Luckily she had the presence of mind to kiss him softly and hover him to the Hospital Wing with the knowledge that he wasn't in any present danger. Surely it was to be expected; their activities this morning were without a doubt the most exerting he had done since his injury. Had she been foolish to want more from him when he was like this? She knew without a doubt that he was interested, and the look in his eye when she straddled him… _God, _that was a look that was sure to keep her up at night. And it had felt so natural, so simple, it was as if they were returning to a routine they had established years ago. The steps may be timid and unsure, but full and complete in their fruition. She remembered watching with bated breath as his hands wrapped around her belly, sighing, relaxing her neck as his thumbs brushed the band of her bra. She felt adored by his touch, by his awed expression and full kisses. Lily wanted so badly for him to take her, for him to go harder, faster, to take her without asking permission. But of course, it wasn't true. Wasn't their love more thorough in its delay? She knew without a doubt that he loved her with abandon, but it wasn't to say that she wouldn't take him at the earliest possible opportunity. She wasn't a blushing virgin anymore than he was, but she trusted him to take her gently; he wouldn't let her first time be fumbling and uncomfortable.

And as much as they both wanted it, Lily hated the thought that she had pushed him too soon after his injury. Still, in the moment, she didn't—no, _couldn't _think of anything else besides the feeling of his hands on her body, the firm weight of his body above her, the tickle of his fringe in her eyes as they kissed. It was perfect; _he _was perfect.

But of course, he wasn't, he was set in his ways, perfectionistic, judgemental of those who had wronged him. But didn't that make him all the more wonderful? She didn't need a cardboard cutout of the perfect man; she needed someone who could stand by her side, someone who would love her _with_ her scars, not despite them.

When she returned to his side, his half-empty tray was sitting on the side table. She looked up in confusion, but he patted the bed next to him with a smile, and she sat.

"Why didn't you finish?"

"At least buy me a drink first," James said with a grin, and Lily rolled her eyes to hide her blush. "I saved some for you," James replied, crooking his finger and watching with distant interest as the tray hovered and dropped softly on her lap. "Exactly half,"

Lily stuttered, unsure of how to respond. James mistook her hesitation for disinterest and raised an eyebrow, but Lily shook her head, taking his fork with shock and admiration. "You did?"

"Sure," James said, leaning back against the pillows. "You haven't eaten either,"

Lily tucked in, raising her shoulder in an effort to hide the tears in her eyes. And it was _silly_; he had saved a bowl of porridge and eggs for her. But how long had it been since someone had done something for her expecting nothing in return? The emotions of the day rolled through her like an incoming tide, smaller and larger and growing closer with every moment.

She sniffed, a piece of egg on her fork when James laid a hand on her shoulder, and she turned. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Lily felt her lip quiver and eyes blur before her fork flew from her hand, and she fell into his arms. "_God_, James, I love you so much,"

James glowed with pride as she tucked herself deeper into his chest, resting her chin on his shoulder. Was that the first time she had said so? Did she notice? He pulled her close and breathed in her scent, fighting to keep tears out of his own eyes as she cried in his arms.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for you," she said, fighting to keep the tears out of her voice. "I was so scared, so worried, I didn't know what I would do if you didn't come back. You're my whole world, you and the others, and I love you all so much. And when you fell in the corridor, it all came rushing back; what if Sev _didn't _do what he said he'd do? What if you were injured like this forever? What if—"

James rested his hand on her back and rubbed circles up and down her spine the way his father did when he was frightened. He wished that he could love her enough that the world couldn't hurt her anymore. _God, _he was a wizard, and magic couldn't take this pain away?

"I'm doing better," James said. "I'm sorry I scared you, just—this morning, when you looked at me, and you _wanted _me, God, Evans, I've wanted this for so long. I've wanted _you _for so long, and there it was, your love and your acceptance and your _forgiveness. _And then you kissed me, and I wasn't in pain; it was bliss. Pure bliss."

James pulled away, and their eyes met, and even though Lily still looked desperately sad and afraid, she looked awake and alive. Happy to be with him, despite the circumstances.

"It's just eggs, Evans," James said quietly. "I won't starve on your account,"

"I'm not used to people taking care of me,"

The Hospital Wing doors opened, and Sirius and the others appeared, broad smiles on their faces.

"We found him!" Sirius shouted jubilantly, his arms around Lupins' shoulder. A bloodied and dishevelled Frank Longbottom appeared behind them, supported by both Peter and Alice. Still, despite his appearance, there was a fire in his eyes that James understood.

"Frank!" Lily exclaimed, standing to greet him. But even then, Frank's expression didn't waver.

"What happened?"

"There were three blokes," Frank said, his voice tight. "They kidnapped me from my bed, gagged and bound me and hid me in the rafters for questioning,"

"How horrible," Lily said, her eyes wide. James took her hands for support and leant forward to hear the rest.

"What did they want?" James asked.

"Information," Frank replied, sitting down hard on the bed opposite James'. He rested his head in his hands and shook his head as if in disbelief. His robes were badly torn, and his skin was waxy and drawn, but his eyes were maniacal, firm and piercing into James' when he looked up. "They wanted to know about the Order of the Phoenix,"

"The what?" Peter asked.

"It's an organization," Frank said with difficulty. He spied James' empty glass on the bedside table and refilled it before gulping it down. "Supposably led by Dumbledore himself. They wanted numbers, meeting locations, suspected members,"

"Did you recognize any of their voices?" Marlene asked, sitting beside Lily.

"Yes," Frank responded. "One of the blokes, the shortest of the three, there was something about him. He sounded _so _familiar like I knew him. He talked proper-like, and his shoes—"

"His shoes?" Alice exclaimed.

"Hush, Alice," Amelia said, a finger over her lips.

"Yeah, they were almost _Muggle. _Leather, or something like it. Might've been dragon skin,"

James looked up immediately, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Remus held Sirius' hand firmly, but the fire had been lit in Sirius' eyes.

"I'm a kill him," Sirius said between gritted teeth. "I'm gonna _kill_ him,"

"We don't know it _was _him," James said placatingly. "It could've been any number of blokes,"

"Who?" Alice asked, her eyes wide.

"Regulus," Lily responded, her hands knotted in her lap. "Regulus has snakeskin boots."

"Were they green?" Sirius asked, his eyes wild. "His shoes, they were green, weren't they?"

"Well, I, I dunno. It was so fast, I couldn't always see him—"

"Think faster then!"

"Sirius!' James exclaimed, "This isn't helping!"

"It was his voice that caught me," Frank said, looking up and meeting Sirius' eyes. "It sounded like somebody I knew. It-it might've been Reg, but I'm not completely sure,"

"I learned something about Crouch," Lily said, watching as Remus whispered calming words into Sirius' ear, watched as they sagged towards one another as if Sirius was deflating. "The Matron says that he was hit with a memory charm gone wrong,"

"What does that have to do with Frank's kidnapping?" Amelia asked pointedly. "Or mine, quite frankly?"

"Don't you see?" Lily said, her eyes searching. "Don't you see how it's all connected?"

Lily was met with silence, but she pressed forward anyway. "Moody kidnapped Amelia and hid her in the Room of Requirement. After a few hours, we found and rescued her,"

"Yes, we were _all _there," Sirius said petulantly.

"But _why _was she kidnapped?" Lily said, pacing the space between Frank and James' bed. "We've never fully understood it. Until Frank was too, but this time he remembered his captors. Could it be possible that both kidnappings were done by the same people, for the same reasons?"

"I was kidnapped by an _Auror, _Lily," Amelia said, her brows furrowed. "The lot who captured Frank sound like… well, they sound like students to me,"

"Memory charms," James said, snapping his fingers in Lily's direction, his face widening into a smile. "You said something about memory charms. What if Amelia saw something she wasn't supposed to see, and Moody was framed?"

"He did sound confused," Peter said, scratching his nose. "But he's a Ministry of Magic employee, he's an _Auror, _he would have known to be more careful than that,"

"He fought like he knew what he was doing," Marlene said, "there were five of us, and we only just managed to stun him,"

"But that's what I'm saying," Lily exclaimed, "James, you saw him in Dumbledore's office, did he act like he had done something wrong,"

"He did seem off—"

"This is getting nowhere," Sirius burst out, wringing his hands. "I need to find him before he ruins his life forever. I'm going with or without you,"

James looked up and caught Sirius' expression before his eyes turned downcast. "I wish I could mate, truly, I do. I'm still healing,"

"Bullshit,"

"Sirius!" Lupin exclaimed, but Sirius kept his eyes fixed on James. "Bullshit, you wouldn't help me even if you could get out of that damn bed,"

"Of course I would!"

"So just to be clear," Sirius said, wrenching himself from Lupin's grasp. "You're healthy enough to shag Evans but _not_ well enough to help me find my brother. Seems fair."

"I did not sleep with her!"

"Then why are you picking her over us?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Evans!" Sirius exploded, pointing a finger at Lily without taking his eyes off of James.

"Leave her out of this," James said, sitting up with a wince. "This has nothing to do with her,"

"Why did I make a Vow with Snape, then?" Sirius exclaimed. "For my own good?"

"I don't know, you didn't tell me about it!"

"I did this, _all _of this, mind you, for you!" Sirius roared. "To save your damn life, and this is how you treat me?"

"You didn't help me by making a pact with Snape! You're helping yourself,"

"He did save your life, James," Peter said hesitantly.

"Shut up, Wormtail," Sirius and James said in unison before glaring daggers at the other once again.

"And where does that leave us, hmm?" James growled, standing and taking a step towards Sirius. "Where does that leave Frank? Where does that leave Amelia? We're looking for answers, and you got distracted!"

"This has nothing to do with me!"

"Then why did you lose interest the minute Regulus was mentioned?" James said sharply, and Sirius turned away in disgust. "It had nothing to do with Frank from the beginning!"

"They disowned me, in case you've forgotten," said Sirius in a dangerously soft voice. "In case my familial situation wasn't _abundantly _clear to you, so far as Regulus is concerned, he doesn't have a brother. They blasted me off the family tree!"

"But you would've gone after him anyway," James said sharply. "You knew that Regulus was into some dark shit—"

"He needs me!"

"Because you thought, oh I know, I'll play the hero and win my brother back, and we can be a big happy family again—"

Sirius took a step forward and took hold of James by the shoulders, looking him dead in the eye. Sirius had never loathed James more in his life, never felt less valuable, less worthwhile than he did at that moment in his best mate's eyes.

"Then what about Evans, eh?" Sirius said softly, and James' eyes widened. "Oh, you care about her. I saved your life, but she cried for most of the night _after _you deemed your life too worthless to save, not enough to go back for—"

"That's enough," Amelia said sharply, moving between the two of them and separating them forcefully. "You're _brothers, _start acting like it,"

Sirius looked behind him, startled and embarrassed to see Lily and Alice with wide eyes. Remus stood to one side, arms folded and head bowed. Peter clung to him, but when Remus looked up, and their eyes met, Sirius knew that he had gone too far. James stormed off in the opposite direction, the heavy door of the Hospital Wing slamming behind him, but Sirius was too shocked to move. A breeze shifted past him as Lily took off after James, and without thinking of where his feet were taking him, eyes thick with tears, Sirius left in the opposite direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second to last chapter! The plot is wrapping itself up, and the end is finally in sight :) Ring me with your thoughts.   
xoxo   
V


	22. O Morning Stars, Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius and James make peace and come to a discovery that changes the future for everybody. James and Lily take the next tentative steps forward.

Hours past.

Lily had followed without a second thought as James walked with difficulty up and away from the Hospital Wing, her heart breaking as she heard the unmistakable sounds of weeping. Not for the first time, Lily felt woefully unprepared to be in the position she was in. Did James even want her to follow? Hadn't he left to be alone? Hadn't she followed without a second thought, unaware and uncaring of his feelings in the matter?

It didn't matter how many times James told her that he wanted her, that he _loved _her, even. It didn't seem to sink in, the idea that somebody could care for her enough to love her despite her flaws, her imperfections, it didn't commute. Love was one-sided; love was the exchange of guilt for services. For so _long,_ love had been an action and not a feeling; to her, love was duty and not devotion. It had been months since these feelings had reached a head, these unwelcome thoughts of the careless nature of the love she had felt before.

James turned a corner, and she turned her head with wide eyes as his thick breaths turned short and quick. She lunged and caught him before he fell, and when he clung to her with tears running down her cheeks, she didn't hesitate to pull him close to her. She wrapped her arms around his upper body, rubbing his back the way he had for her when she woke in the night. Lily tucked her chin into the crook of his neck, whispering quiet little nothings as he wept brokenheartedly. Lily felt tears dot her vision and sniffed, kissing James' forehead.

"I'm— I'm here," Lily said, feeling foolish parroting his words of comfort back to him. "You're safe, you're going to be okay,"

James squeezed his eyes shut, his hand grasping her thigh like a vice. His wand skittered out of his pocket, but she reached over him and retrieved it, pressing it into his hand. His fingers moved past the wand and gripped her fingers, his hand firm against hers.

She couldn't imagine the depths of his loss. How many times could he row with Sirius before their relationship soured? Lily didn't want to think of the long-term implications of Sirius' words, of James' defence of her. Did she deserve to be put above Sirius? They were best mates, and who was Lily in this? A nobody, a pity case. A Muggleborn who took freely and gave nothing in return. The Mudblood who ensnared James Potter and cheated on her boyfriend, the emotional nag who cared for nothing and nobody and no one more than herself.

"No, you're not," James murmured as if he could hear her thoughts.

"What?"

"You're—" James said, his throat scratchy with disuse. "You're not—not a pity case."

"You can hear me?" Lily said, leaning down so their eyes met.

"No," James said, leaning back against her shoulder as if spent. "You're thinking too loud,"

Lily sniffed, smiling to herself as she leant against the wall with tears in her eyes. She felt an overwhelming wave of warmth wash over her, a deluge of care, of attention, of joy. She turned, kissing James on the temple.

_You are worthy of love._

…

James wasn't in pain, he assured her, so they stayed where they were. Thankfully, most of the student body had already left for Christmas hols, and the castle was nearly empty. The quiet wisps of ghosts passed them without comment, cats and rats slinked around corners. Noon passed, and great shafts of sunlight soaked the castle in warmth. Lily wasn't sure how long they sat, nor was she sure if James was awake or asleep. He looked too peaceful to move, no matter how uncomfortable the flagstones were to rest on, she stayed where she was, smoothing his fringe from his eyes.

Footsteps approached, and Lily tensed, unsure of who they were about to meet. Lily thought she heard voices and turned, surprised to see Lupin, looking stern and focused. A dog slowed to a stop beside him, its large head hung low. Lily started before she realized, _God, _was that Sirius?

It had been two years since she had seen the Marauders in their Animagus forms, and her memory had deceived her. Padfoot was massive, his shoulders brushing Lupin mid-thigh as he shifted on his paws. The corridor was empty, but Lily felt herself pulling James beside her, behind her. Away from this mastiff in the corridor.

Lupin nudged Padfoot with his knee, and the dog turned its head with a look of trepidation. Lupin repeated the action, muttering to Padfoot before cracking a grin at Lily.

"His bark is worse than his bite," Remus said, crouching in front of Lily with his hand extended. "And no one knows that more than me. Come, I reckon they have a lot to talk about,"

Lily turned around, but James was already awake, looking Padfoot with measured exasperation. James met her eye and nodded. Lily accepted Remus' hand and stood.

Lily watched as the dog Sirius sat at James' feet, his face downcast and ears down. James leant forward, his fingers reaching and taking hold of Padfoot's thick fur. As Lily walked away, their foreheads met and she watched with a smile on he,r face as a tear slipped down James' face.

…

The corridor was empty, and for the first time since his family blew him off the family tree, Sirius let himself feel the waves of abandonment and loss, how it felt to have James choose Evans over his mates. For so long, Sirius had acted as if the Marauders were the same as they always had been. He had let himself slip into the mentality that the Marauders were the one thing in his life that would stay the same forever; that change was unlikely, and the steady course of friendship was his future. He hadn't anticipated any deviations, much less another member. For a long time, Sirius had let himself think that there could only ever be four— and if Evans grew closer to James, he would be excluded and left behind. He couldn't bear making the same mistake twice; the Marauders were his family, his _only _family. And he didn't mind Evans, not really. He made a show of exclusion, but she was smart, funny. She complimented the group in a number of ways, added sensitivity and a layer of compassion it had previously lacked.

And it all stemmed from that, didn't it? Was Sirius always going to be fifteen and disowned inside? Was he always going to revert back to the fear of neglect when the going got tough? The years had hardened his heart, and he had grown adept at hiding his feelings from his mates. But there were times that Remus looked at him, and it felt like he was looking _through _him, as if he could see Sirius for who he really was. The feeling was pacifying, exhilarating, but also numbing. Would his friends still want him if they knew what he felt? Would they abandon him like his parents had?

James' parents hadn't hesitated to let him in when he appeared on their doorstep at four in the morning. On the contrary, they had given him a room, and from there on, purchased two of everything he and James would ever need with no questions asked. Sirius hadn't had to hide the fact that he had nowhere else to go, certainly nowhere that would welcome him as readily as the Potter's had. But not a day went by without Sirius recalling what it had been to fly in the rain in the middle of the night, two hours in the dark on the word of his best friend's father who said once that he'd always have a home with them. Sirius remembered the rain and the feeling of tears clouding his vision, the shock of his leather jacket freezing to his skin. He remembered packing the night before their last fight, Regulus clinging to the banister like Sirius was vermin the family was happy to be rid of. The last sight of his family's townhouse was the sight of the Muggle posters he had stuck to the wall with well-placed sticking charm in fourth year, the window as it struck open in the storm. His mother had screamed as he tilted out of the casement and flew away, never to return. He was a Black no longer, and whatever future the universe had for him, it was going to be made on his own terms. His family would hold him back no longer. He was his own man, and he'd rather live in a cave and beg for scraps than be a Black for one second longer.

_Sirius' room at the Yorkshire estate was the same it always had been, clean and fresh and smelling faintly of incense. Mrs. Potter hadn't blinked upon his arrival, and the pile of clothes on the chifforobe was most likely her doing. He remembered shrugging out of his soaking clothes in the loo, the feeling of warm water on his back, sitting with his head in his hands in the shower he had let run to hide the sound of his heartbroken weeping. No matter what Sirius thought of his family, no matter the freedom he had so temporarily experienced, they had abandoned him. Sirius had no family that wanted him. He couldn't go back; the only direction was forward._

_Sirius tried to steady his breathing, the harsh sound of his sobs echoed around the loo, but he couldn't help it. He pulled his knees in tighter, not quite able to see with his dripping fringe in his eyes. Lupin said it looked good longer, but his mother hated it, said it made him look like a filthy Muggle. She hated his leather jacket, his Muggle posters, but if he was honest with himself, it was really _him _she hated. Her eldest son, the blood-traitor who consorted with werewolves and half-breeds. The flight was cold, and more than once, Sirius had slipped on his broomstick and considered the fall. Would anyone care if he did?_

_"Padfoot?" A voice said from the doorway, and Sirius slipped in his haste to stand. It was James, had he heard? Sirius' hand shook on the wall, his legs weak and eyes full of tears. "Pads, can I come in?"_

_"I'm — I'm in the loo," Sirius said, his voice a little desperate._

_"I'll just wait here, then," James continued before silence fell._

_Sirius felt his hand shake on the shower nozzle before he was able to turn off the faucet. The towels were warm and soft, and he wiped the bubbles from his hair with uneasy breaths. Luckily, Sirius had left a pair of pyjamas in the cupboard before he left for term in September, and he dressed hastily, stumbling into his trousers before he was brave enough to broach the door._

_"Hey," James had said, sitting patiently on the lounge at the foot of Sirius' four-poster. His eyes were thick with sleep, but he smiled nonetheless, and Sirius sat beside him with trepidation. "Mum told me you were here,"_

_Sirius nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He couldn't bear to meet James' eyes. Who did he think he was? The Marauders hadn't been invited to the Potter's until Christmas Eve. Sirius hadn't even made it through a full night at No. 12 before leaving forever. Was he an imposition? Would James ask him to leave?_

_Oh _God_, and if he did, where the hell would he go?_

_"Sirius, what happened?"_

_Sirius couldn't meet his eyes but sat beside him on the bed nonetheless. James sat in silence, which was unlike him. Were his best mate's thoughts as jumbled and confused as his? Sirius looked over at him through his fringe, blinking the wetness out of his eyes. It was strange to see James sit quietly. Did he judge Sirius for what he had done? Had his parents told him?_

_The story spilled out of him like a flood, and for the next hour, Sirius told his best mate all the feelings he had hidden about his family. He told James how he had left forever and didn't intend to ever return. He cried when he mentioned Reg; Sirius didn't think he'd ever forget the wide eyes of his little brother as he watched Sirius leave._

_His voice was hoarse, and his tears were sticky on his cheeks by the time he finished, and Sirius sat on the comfortable chaise, feeling more pitiful and exposed than he had in his entire life. Desperately, he wanted James to respond, to comfort him, to tell him that he hadn't made the biggest mistake of his life. He needed reassurance that he hadn't thrown away his future, any hopes and dreams he had for his life after Hogwarts. _God_, what James must think of him. How weak, how defenceless. How cowardly to leave his home with no thoughts of a future, abandoning familial loyalty in exchange for … what? Sirius knew that James valued his family above all else._

_"You don't need them," James said softly, wrapping his arms around Sirius' shoulders. "We can be a new family, just the four of us."_

_Sirius collapsed into James' arms, a fresh round of sobs wracking his chest as he let himself cry. For so long, he kept his feelings inside, ashamed and embarrassed to admit that he felt the way he did. His family _had _abandoned him; the worst was surely over. Any family he had in the future would be of his own making,_

_"My dad lost the key to the wet bar," James said finally, looking down at the best mate, who sniffed into his sleeve. "There's an almost full bottle of Ogden's finest," James stood, offering Sirius his hand. "Shall we?"_

_"Yes,"_

_That night, and for every night until the rest of the Marauder's came on the 24th, James listened as Sirius told him all the secrets he had buried deep inside himself. They both got drunk for the first time that night, screaming and crying into the wood behind the estate, running and laughing through the snow side by side. And when the moon rose, and the shadows fell, they transformed into their new Animagus forms, a soft-nosed doe with the beginnings of antlers and a mastiff, a black dog that was growing bigger every day. They ran through the drifts and slid across the lake, following the moonglow across the shifting ice. Sirius would remember that night for the rest of his life, the night he was sure that he had somebody who loved him._

Sirius sat quietly, sunk in his memories, and started when James spoke.

"I'm sorry I said that you conspired with Snape," James sniffed, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. "It's not true; I don't know why I said it,"

Sirius leant back against James, tears running freely down his cheeks. There was a time where he might've wiped them away out of shame, but there was no one else. The corridor was empty, as was the castle. Wherever Moony had taken Evans, it was made clear that he and James were to be left alone. Sirius tried to not feel embarrassed by the implication (for God's sake, Moony didn't get to decide where he went or who he talked to), but his outburst had left him feeling unhinged and with a single focus. It _bothered _him that James couldn't see it the same way he could. Didn't Regulus matter just as much as Frank did? But all Lily and James wanted to talk about was Amelia's attack, Frank's kidnapping, and it had angered him to the point of lashing out.

Sirius blinked and ran a hand over his eyes as he turned towards the door. He remembered resenting Evans and Remus for ushering the others out when they started rowing, but he didn't anymore. The outpouring of emotion was embarrassing, and he hated the look Remus gave him, pity, almost. Not shame, but it was like Remus could see through him, expose him. He chose not to, but the sadness in his eyes would take time for Sirius to forget.

And then there was the attack. Even now, it had been almost a week since James had jumped in front of Regulus' curse, ducking as Snape continued the attack. It had felt like a tragedy in action, as if he was watching himself act in a film rather than participating in it. Sirius remembered hearing the cry of pain as James took the blast for him. And what had he done in return other than make him regret his actions?

"I'm sorry I hesitated," Sirius said quietly, feeling the weight of James' head rest on his neck. "Seeing Regulus there stunned me ... I didn't know what to do. You jumped in front of me and saved my life; I have no business being angry. You saved my life. Snape would've let me bleed out,"

"Mhmm," James said, anxious for Sirius to continue.

"You're my mate, my _best_ friend. God, James, I'm so sorry,"

For the first time in a long time, Sirius felt a deep swell of peace settle in his heart. He was wrong to assume that James had chosen Lily over him; it was a misconception buttressed with feelings of rejection and inadequacy. Sirius wasn't what his mates thought of him; he wasn't who his family or enemies thought he was either. He could _choose _who he wanted to be, who he wanted to be with. No one could decide who he was but himself. "I'm sorry I said you chose Evans over your mates," Sirius said, pulling on a loose curl that escaped his bun." It wasn't fair of me to ask that of you,"

They sat in silence for what felt like hours, long enough that Sirius could feel James' breath level and calm, long enough to be sure that he was falling asleep.

"Let's get you to the Hospital Wing," Sirius said finally, bracing James' back with an arm as he stood.

"No," James said sleepily. "No, I'm fine. You—you had said something earlier. Do you, do you remember? I want you to show me what you found,"

"What I found?"

"Muggle Studies," James said, blinking his eyes open. "You said something about Muggle Studies,"

"It was just a lead," Sirius said, a wave of shame washing over him like water. He remembered perfectly what James had implied. It had been weeks ago, back when he was angry and felt like he had something to prove. He had been wandering the castle for hours before he stumbled upon it.

"It's not far," Sirius said, offering a hand to James. "If you're sure,"

"I want to," James said, standing with pinched lips. "I need to apologize too. I've blamed you for things you haven't done, held you at arm's length, and I'm sorry. I never should have said those things about your family. _We're _your family now, I hope you know that,"

Sirius let James' words mull through his mind as they walked up a flight of stairs, taking a shortcut without a second thought. James followed, catching his eye with a smile. Maybe they would be okay after all.

Sirius led the way to the door, opening it for James before entering itself.

"This is it," Sirius said, a strange mixture of pride, embarrassment and bashfulness dotting his tone. He watched James carefully as they walked about the empty classroom, tapping his wand anxiously on his thigh.

"What'd you find out?" James asked, sitting on Burbage's desk with a muted wince of pain as he shifted. Sirius watched as James' heels tapped the wood desk, his fingers ruffling the hair at the back of his head. Sirius felt so foolish, had all he wanted was for James to be proud of him? To validate him?

"I found Moody sniffing around in here," Sirius said softly, walking to the corner where, in the days following Amelia's attack, he had seen a hooded figure shifting through the cupboards. Something about it had felt strange; what business would an Auror have observing a classroom with such intensity? When they had been questioned by Aurors later, Sirius had maintained a decisively cool memory recalling the _exact _location that they had found Amelia and trapped Moody. The Room of Requirement was theirs, the Marauders, and not to be seen and exploited by others. He remembered watching James stutter an answer when the question was directed at him; lies and falsehoods were outside his nature. An abandoned classroom on the seventh floor became the assumed location, and Sirius had watched with a careful smirk as the Aurors tore every room on that floor apart over the following weeks, finding nothing suspicious or even remotely unusual in their search.

Moody had been questioned and released with a healthy amount of suspicion, only delegated to the most basic patrols about the grounds, under strict observation by Hagrid and with Dumbledore's blessing. Sirius didn't think much of it but found his eyes following the grizzled Auror as he moved carefully throughout the castle grounds. There was something… off about him. What business would a new Auror have with Amelia Bones?

As the castle slept, the thoughts kept him tossing in turning in their dormitory, his mind unsettled with all he had seen. His mind slipped towards his brother more than once, remembering the lessons their parents had instructed in Legilimency, Occlumency, curses and hexes for enemies only. Regulus had been too young to be learning such things, fourteen and impressionable, and Sirius remembered his uplifted attitude, already turned towards the other side. He hadn't known it then, but as much as he tried to hide it, his inclinations towards Dark magic were more than theoretical. He remembered what he had been taught, and in scraps with the Slytherin's, and most recently with Crouch, the spells that fell from his lips were brutal and unrelenting in their intensity.

"In the Muggle studies classroom?" James said with a tilt of his head. After all these years, Sirius could read the anxious rise in his shoulders, the tenseness of his fingers as they gripped the edge of the desk. What did James have to be afraid of? Was it not he, _Sirius, _who had fucked up beyond repair? Was it not he who accused James of choosing Lily over the Marauders?

"Yeah, weird, eh?"

"Lily thinks it was the Imperius," James said, fiddling with a Muggle screwdriver left on the desk. "It seems unlikely that Moody acted on his own."

"Do you trust me?" Sirius asked suddenly, and James turned to look.

"Of course,"

"Even if it's mad?"

"Sirius—" James asked, the screwdriver lolling in his hands, forgotten. The look in his eyes was startling, and James fought to maintain eye contact. "Do you know something?"

"I … saw something," Sirius said, "A long time ago. I didn't, I _still _don't understand. It doesn't make sense,"

"Is it… someone we know?"

"No, it's not that," Sirius said, pursing his lips. "I think, I think Regulus is undergoing the trials,"

"For…" James said, his eyes widening.

"Yeah,"

"Snape too? And the others? That's why—"

"The Slytherin sixth and seventh years, four, in particular, have been missing from the castle regularly for the past three months," Sirius said, patting his pocket. "I've been watching them. I've only seen glimpses, but Voldemort is a bigger threat than we thought he was. He's recruiting from _inside _the castle."

"We knew the war was coming," James said.

"Not like this," Sirius said, taking a step closer. "The morning of your attack, I hid in the tunnels beneath the castle, waiting for them to come back. It was… it was Regulus I was watching. It had been so long, I was—I was worried about him,"

"That's understandable," James said, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Yeah, but it wasn't just he who came back," Sirius said. "It was more… the assembly in Hogsmeade, the village isn't evacuated because of the deaths, it's because of _him, he's _there. Waiting for them, watching. Amelia's attack was a set-up,"

"Did they think she had information?" James asked, "about the … organization Frank mentioned?"

"Maybe," Sirius said, gripping the edge of the desk. He felt his fingernails bite into the soft wood and found that he liked the pain. Welcomed it. What he was saying, he needed focus. James needed to understand. "Maybe she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,"

"And Frank," James said, his eyes widening. "They messed up, got the charm wrong. If it _was _the Imperius they used on Amelia, what did they need Moody for?"

"Or Crouch?" Sirius responded, his blood like ice in his veins. "What it—"

It was as if James could read his mind, "it was a cover,"

"Yeah,"

"I mean, there's no other explanation. It makes sense, Moody's young, impressionable. He's a new Auror, and he already has a reputation for instability. He was in the castle; he'd be the perfect cover.

"Crouch, then," Sirius said. "Crouch was brought in to do an inspection for the Ministry _after _the attack took place. He couldn't have been directly involved; he was in London when it happened,"

"He was framed," James said, snapping his fingers. "The Ministry isn't trusted; they've been lying in the press. Crouch is a senior minister, making him seem unstable would cripple the Ministry's reputation—"

"Making it easier for Voldemort to infiltrate,"

"We need to tell Dumbledore!" Sirius said, jumping up from his desk.

"Evans, first," James said, following Sirius as they took off for the head dormitory.

Lily was alone when they reached the doorway, surprised and shocked as they took a moment to breathe, panting with exertion. She listened with wide eyes as Sirius and James regurgitated their findings (ruffling through the cabinet for a pain potion as they spoke). She produced a pale blue potion, which James took as a shot before the tore for Dumbledore's office.

James shouted the password, and they climbed the spiral staircase two at a time, knocking hurriedly against the solid oak door.

A soft voice answered from within, and James pushed the handle and burst through, the new information buzzing through his mind.

"James," Dumbledore said pleasantly, closing a book and placing it back on his desk. "Lily, and Sirius too! What do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"We figured it out, sir," James said, his body nearly bursting with the news.

"So you have completed your assignment," Dumbledore said, steepling his fingers. There was a glint in his eye that made James stand taller, proud to be considered worthy in Dumbledore's eyes. "And who, might I ask, is behind this mysterious business?"

"Severus Snape, sir," James said, looking over to Sirius, who met his eye with a nod. "And… others,"

"Pray tell," Dumbledore said, and James did.

The story burst forth on its own volition; even though it was the second time in under an hour it had been told, it came forth proudly. With additions from Lily and Sirius, James told him of Amelia's attacker, of Moody's continued exposure to the Imperius curse, Crouch's perceived instability in the Ministry of Magic, the notable mistakes the assailants had made in both Amelia's and Frank's abductions. Dumbledore listened calmly and quietly, watching but not interrupting, waiting until James had exhausted himself, and collapsed into the cushioned chair opposite Dumbledore's desk.

"So you have solved it, then," Dumbledore said finally, smiling at the assembled company. "When I left this school during term, there had already been rumours of such things. Whispers, of course, from old friends and enemies alike. Lord Voldemort has been assembling an army for some time, and with the attacks in Hogsmeade coming so close to Hogwarts, I left easy with the knowledge that my Head Boy and Girl could protect the school, which you have, with honours. The school remains a haven, thanks to you,"

"Unless you're a Slytherin," Sirius said, looking at Dumbledore with an expression James didn't recognize, one he couldn't understand. Sirius looked almost hungry, relentless.

"Those who have joined the other side have made their choice," Dumbledore said finally, "as was theirs to make. There was nothing any of us could have done to have prevented such inclinations,"

"But they're our friends, our family," Lily said quietly, thinking of how the cloaked figure she had suspected to be Regulus Black before they Disapparated. "We can't just abandon them,"

Dumbledore smiled kindly, but the look of broad pride faded from his expression. For so long, Lily had admired Dumbledore for his steadfastness, his leadership. He stood resolute while the rest of the world bowed under the stress of impending war. But as she watched him, his kindly face and steepled fingers, there was a strange glint in his blue eyes, something she hadn't noticed before. She turned to watch James, still rosy and proud and sat beside him and took his hand. _He didn't see it, _she thought a little madly. Either he didn't see it, or he couldn't see it, and _God_, which was more frightening?

"You've had a difficult term," Dumbledore said finally, and before her eyes, the strange expression seemed to fade as if she'd never seen it at all. Before her, the man was proud and kind, thankful and remorseful for not coming sooner to their aid. "But Hogwarts was safeguarded because of you. It's gates held, and those responsible for its potential destruction have been caught and sent for a hearing at the Wizengamot." Dumbledore stood and swept his robes behind him, clasping his hands together. "Mark my words, Lily and James, they _will _answer for their crimes."

"Even Mr. Crouch?"

Dumbledore exhaled, and the bright evening sun cast shadows across the room. He seemed higher than any man she had ever known, more important, surely. "Yes, even Barty. It was a fatal error on his part, I might say, for inviting such thoughts to rest on an already troubled and overburdened mind. I suspect that he was an easier victim because of it. Frequent memory charms, as I suspect it was, as well as the Imperius. Please forgive an old man his pride, but I am nearly always correct."

James smiled, reaching his hand forward for Dumbledore to shake. "Thank you, professor. I'm only sorry that they got away,"

"Oh, surely not," Dumbledore said, notes of shock and surprise in his voice. "You've gone above and beyond the call to duty; I knew you wouldn't let me down. Others had their trepidations, I'll remind you, but I knew that Hogwarts could count on you,"

…

Dinner came and went, and Lily watched as James recalled their meeting with Dumbledore to their friends with muted enthusiasm. Sometime during this, his hand fell from the table onto her thigh, his long fingers running patterns in her dungarees. She flushed, rushes of heat running to her belly as his thumb caught the crease of her hip, the inner seam of her trousers. _God,_ did he know what he was doing to her? She felt her breath come fast and short, not able to meet his eyes for fear of embarrassing herself. By the time Frank and Amelia had all their questions answered, and pudding had been cleared away, Lily was more than prepared for whatever James planned to do to her once the door to their dormitory was closed and bolted for the night.

She could hardly remember saying goodnight to her friends; James kept his hand wrapped around hers as they turned to their doorway.

"After you," he said, his eyes dark as they looked down into hers.

She walked past the loo, opening the door to his bedroom with bated breath.

They got ready for bed side by side, exchanging glances at the other as they pulled pyjamas out of James' chest of drawers. It felt so surreal, the cold wood beneath her toes, the crackling of the hearth-fire in the Common Room. James was undressing in front of her, and _God, _when he bent over to retrieve his tie, he _groaned_, and the sound sent heat straight through her belly like a knife. _Would he sound like that when he was in pleasure, too? _She wondered. _If he wasn't in pain, if they slept together, would he sound like that then?_

Lily took a deep breath, looking anywhere but him. James' potions lined his bedside table, multi-coloured viles with wax stoppers, organized by size and function. Lily's side was organized in her own way, _Gulliver's Travels, _a half-finished cup of tea, loose tissues and hairpins. Her dressing gown and Charms textbook were tossed over the chair in the corner of the room, and more than one of her skirts littered the floor in front of the chifforobe. James shrugged out of his cardigan, tossing it somewhat clumsily into the hamper under the window. She knew that he had caught her staring, but she couldn't help it. His wounds were plentiful and impossible to ignore, crisscrossing his chest and belly.

The initial point of impact was the deepest, a long slice from his right hip to the hollow between his collarbones. The others were perfunctory, almost; slashes done with abandon in their flight from the scene. He was torn apart, pieces of flesh sewed together with magic and thread. She felt terrible for not realizing the depths of his pain earlier; she was so focused on Frank and the others. She supposed she had just _assumed _that he was okay because he hadn't told her otherwise. And later, when James had met with Sirius and met with Dumbledore, all seemed to be well. Well enough, at the least, to make no mention of the continued low-level pain he was in. She watched out of the corner of her eye as his hand hovered above the many potions he had been administered before selecting the pale pink vile that had been prescribed for bedtime use. He downed it in one and replaced it before joining her back in front of the chifforobe.

Lily shrugged out of her dungarees and let them pool at her feet, slipping her stockings off. She wiggled her toes against the floorboards and pulled out her plait, reaching for her nightie at the back of her shelf in James' bedroom.

A month ago, James had shown her the drawer and section in the chifforobe he had cleared for her use. Since then, she kept her nighties and a few Muggle clothes in his room, for convenience, of course, but it was more than that to her. It was _nice _to see their things co-existing, resting together in the same place. She loved that his Quidditch jumpers and socks rested beside her dungarees and scrunchies. It was as if they were together, a _couple, _one that couldn't exist without the other. She loved the implications more than the access.

James unbuttoned his cardigan and lay it carefully on a hanger before beginning with his jumper. He tried not to watch as Lily reached up on tiptoes to search for something at the back of her cupboard. Her shirt wasn't very long, and a tantalizing view of her bum as she stretched overhead. Her hair hung loosely about her shoulders, but as he pretended to unbutton his jumper, he watched with fascination as she moved. Never before had he appreciated the beauty of the female body— the soft curve of her ankle, the muscles moving and shifting beneath her thighs. He loved the soft dip of her breastbone, the gentle bones in her fingers. He watched as she turned and made noises of discontent before taking hold of one of his jumpers and pulling it out, slipping out of her shirt before pulling her nightie and then his jumper over her bra.

He made quick work of his jumper buttons before shrugging it off his shoulders. His skin prickled in the cool air, and he looked over to see Lily sitting on the bed with her knees up to her chest, cocooned in soft wool.

"Can you stoke the fire?" she asked, and James nodded, eager to please her. He pointed to the pile of firewood stacked against the wall and willed them to rise, assemble themselves midair, and fall gracefully onto the smouldering fire. James turned as the bark caught, and the hearth glowed warm with sustained flame. He cocked a smile at Lily, who had relaxed against the bedpost; her face was calm and relaxed as she waited for him to join her.

James reached for his wand and placed it on his nightside table, toeing off his socks as he undressed. It still felt surreal, undressing where she could see. James pretended (out of the desire to be chivalrous, yes, but also not to spontaneously combust) that he hadn't noticed her knickers and bras among the rest of her clothing that littered the floor. He always turned away as she shimmied out of her bra, letting it fall to the floorboards and stepping out of it as if James' jaw hadn't fallen with it. He had never seen her topless, but he watched out of the corner of his eyes as her breasts shifted beneath her nightgowns (or more recently, with the return of colder nights, James' Quidditch jumpers, as if she _didn't _know what seeing her wear his things did to him). She was comfortable with him, and he relished in that comfort.

There was a time that never would've thought that Lily Evans would care for him enough to tell him the time of day, much less undress in front of him and wear his clothes. He knew that he loved her, but the love he felt for her was something else entirely. It was deep; he looked to her reassurance, for answers. He knew that even in his darkest moments before Snape had healed him that Lily stood by his side.

He felt the cold prickle his skin and shifted closer to the fire as he considered the buttons of his trousers. They were metal, and his fingers were uncoordinated and thick as he tried to undo them. He turned away from Lily, embarrassed to show her how weak he really was. Even with the potions and salves the Matron had provided, the skin beneath his bandages was soft and fragile. He hated this feeling of helplessness; he needed to feel strong and capable, to not fall victim to his wounds every time Lily needed him. As noble as the cause for injury was, he was tired of feeling this way.

He rubbed his fingers together, the memory of the sounds Lily had made as he ran his hand over his thigh crowding his mind. God, did she…would she?

And even now, she sat in front of him with her hair loose and curling around her shoulders, the thin little nightgown luminescent in the weak moonlight. She hummed to herself, waiting for him to join her.

His finger fumbled on the first button, and he flinched, a shock of pain running down his arm.

"Hey," she said softly, resting her hand on his. He hadn't realized she had stood; she looked so small and soft standing in front of him. He tried for a crooked smile, but it faded as her hands reached for his.

"Can I? Would you let me help?"

"Are you trying to seduce me, Evans?" Lily's eyebrows shot up to her hairline, and James tried for a smile, brushing her curls behind her ear. "Or are you just trying to get me naked?" James said, leaning down and kissing the spot behind her ear that sent waves of warmth into the depths of her belly.

Lily settled her hands on his hips, trying to keep her fingertips from shaking as they settled against her skin. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes," James said, watching as her hands fiddled with the button of his trousers. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to embarrass you,"

"You're not—" Lily said, struggling to find the words. "You're not embarrassing me; _I'm _embarrassing myself. You're still healing, I don't want to presume … "

Lily started as his hand cupped her jaw, pulling her gently up to face him. "Presume what?"

"That you want me," Lily said, struggling to maintain eye contact. "Earlier, when you touched me, I—I liked it. I couldn't help but thinking that you wanted me… y'know, like _that,"_

James took a shuddering breath, the emotions of the day rushing over him like a cresting wave. _Had it all led to this? _He thought, brushing a finger down her jaw, his heart beating a mile a minute.

"You make me—" James said, rubbing a hand over his chin as he fought to find the words. "When you get near me, when you _touch_ me, I try to hide it. But then you started sleeping with me, and sometimes at night… I relax, and I think you've noticed. When we kiss, when you kissed me that one time and wrapped your legs around my hips, you _must_ have seen. You must have felt it. I can't control it— I don't want to embarrass you—"

"You don't embarrass me," Lily said, looking up and meeting James' eye. She caught his jaw and leant up on her tiptoes to kiss him, pressing close to him, hearing the small gasp of surprise at the sudden motion. "You could never embarrass me. James, I meant it, what I said earlier. I love you. I love you, I said it by accident, but I meant it. I meant what I said." Lily wrapped her hands loosely around his waist, conscious of the pressure lest she hurt him. "When I feel you pressed against me, I'm not afraid. You make me…you make me feel things too. You make me want things that I've never done before, but I want to, I _want _to with you. When you're around me, James, you make me want _more,_"

"You mean…" James said, his eyes searching hungrily into hers. "Do you mean it? Are you sure you're ready?"

"Yes," Lily said breathily, taking hold of his hips above his trousers, smiling into his kiss as he jerked towards her at the slightest touch. She took a suspiciously shaky breath before crouching and reaching for the button of his trousers.

James stood still, not quite able to watch as she undid the first button. He could feel the tips of her nails brushing against his bare skin, the quickening breath of Lily as she knelt in front of him. Was she as nervous as he was? Did she feel as he did about how this moment was balanced between absolution and catastrophe? James bit his lip and restrained a groan as her fingertip dipped between the buttons and brushed against the skin of his lower belly. Lily's hands stilled for a moment, unsure, but James nodded with his eyes shut tight, and she continued.

As the waistband loosened, she helped him lift one leg and then the other, taking off his socks one by one. He sat down on the edge of the bed as she shimmied his trousers down his legs, tossing them behind her as she got to the business of his pyjamas. James couldn't help but feel helpless; here he was, a grown man unable to put his own pyjamas on for bed. But wasn't this wonderful too? How many of his teenage dreams had started and ended with Lily Evans between his legs? How many times had he wished and dreamt for intimacy, for a closeness between two people in a way he had never felt before?

"Are you okay?" Lily asked, and James swallowed, unaware that her face was so close to his own. Her pupils were dilated, her breath coming short and fast. She looked so beautiful; her hair was loose and wavy, smelling faintly of her rose-scented perfume. And her eyes, her eyes were wide with anticipation, with a hunger he couldn't quite describe. But she looked nervous too; there was a tightness to her shoulders and a rigidness to her posture that he couldn't understand. Was she as nervous as he was? It couldn't just be him; this was so new, so unexpected. When he had been injured, he could never have imagined that it would be so prolonged. With the instantaneous nature of magical healing, one either was relieved of their condition with little fuss and bother or confined to it without the promise of help. And honestly, in the immediate after-effects of Snape's counter-spell, the last thought in his mind was _this. _This _helplessness, _this unexpected moment of weakness to his body's limitations. He was a stag, for God's sake. Surely that counted for something.

He realized with a start that the look in her eyes wasn't quite fearful as anticipatory. She was waiting for him to make the next move, having gone as far as she was comfortable without outward reciprocation. How could he be so thick? He could've undressed her, kissed the long line of her throat that had been tormenting him all day. He could've taken the opportunity as it presented itself to be suave, to be confident and in control and tell her how he felt about her. Was he truly as brave as they all said he was? Was he the leader, the cocky, arrogant James Potter with an answer to every question and a new date every weekend? Or was he someone else, someone distinctly _other? _What would he give to be honest with how he felt about her, how he felt about himself? Would she still love him if he stopped pretending to be somebody else?

"Thank you," James said softly, lowering a hand to cup her cheek. She leant into him, a soft smile curling on her lips. "Thank you for taking such good care of me,"

"I—I liked it," Lily said with a blush, her hands loose and tangled in her lap. "Is it wrong to have liked it?"

"Depends what part of it you liked," James said, his breath catching as she moved slowly, mindful of his expression as she sat astride his hips, the pyjamas falling from her hands to puddle on the floor. He framed her face with his hands, resisting the urge to _move, _to feel her moving against him.

Lily grabbed hold of his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his hips, framing his head with her hands. She could feel him there, firm and unrelenting against her belly. He _wanted _her, he wanted her and her alone, and Lily wanted him all to herself. She wiggled her hips and coaxed a heady groan out of his unsure lips, smiling against his neck as his hands pulled her closer.

"Why don't you find out for yourself?"

…

The light was low, and the moon had risen by the time James collapsed to his side of the bed with a pleasurable sigh. He turned his head, pleased as punch to see Lily gasping for breath, looking flushed and dishevelled and satisfied. He pulled a hand through his hair and smiled, _God _what he would've thought to find himself here six months ago. What he would've given to be the sole recipient of Lily's love and affection, to be the only one to see her above him with a moan in her throat, bare beneath her— her curls hanging in a curtain around them. He reached beneath the sheets and took her hand in his, grinning as she rolled over to rest closer beside him. Her breaths came quick and short, but she reached up and kissed his neck, a place she had recently lavished so much love and attention upon. He ran a hand up and down her side, his thumb catching the bare swell of her breast and the crease of her hip. Up and down, his body responded in kind to the abundance of bareness— rosy cheeks and still damp skin softly rounded with the curves of womanhood.

Lily sighed, her eyes shining brightly into his as they smiled at each other as if he was seeing her for the very first time. He had underestimated her; every conception he had towards her was poor compared to the real deal. Was this what it was to be in love? At that moment, James felt as if he was seeing the world through a different lens, as if there was a before and an after to that moment, but it stretched forever onwards, swirling with possibilities. Never before had he touched a woman the way he touched Lily, with gentleness and adoration, searching for her satisfaction before his own. He wasn't a virgin, but the sex he'd had before had been quick, _embarrassingly _so, with no strings attached. More often than not, he shagged the birds who made him feel good, prodded the part of him that still felt so much the boy in a man's body. He had let them touch him, let them please him, but it hadn't been enough. When they had left, gathering their clothes and dressing in silence, James had felt nothing but emptiness. _Was that what intimacy was about? _he remembered thinking with a sigh. Surely, it had been good at the moment, but the satisfaction was short-lived. It hadn't lasted past the moment of completion, and the moans of those nameless girls were empty, incomplete. It felt like he was missing something, a feeling he couldn't describe or admit to at fifteen.

He had deceived himself into thinking that love and lust were the same thing, that physical attraction and were the epitome of a romantic affliction. But it wasn't true; love was the feeling of Lily's arms around him in sleep; it was the look in his mother's eyes when he woke up in the Hospital Wing. Love was the day that James achieved his first transformation as Prongs, realization that he could help his friend survive into manhood. Sex was empty without love, but as much as he loved the physical dimension of their relationship, he loved her bravery, her steadfastness, her _damn _stubbornness more than he thought possible. James loved this woman in his arms with abandon, a love that he'd die for.

He turned to face her, brushing a hand over her curls. He felt a jolt as he remembered the sounds she made at the heights of her pleasure, the feeling of her thighs tightening around his ears as he brought her to the heights _again and again. _Never before had he been more thankful for a silencing charm he did now that Lily Evans was in his bed.

"I love you," James murmured, reaching for her, smiling as she tucked herself in his arms. He relished the feeling of her still damp skin against his, the rise and fall of her breath as she recovered. "I love you, Evans, _God,_ I love you so much,"

She sighed deep in her throat, raising his arm and tucking herself under his arm, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I love you too," Lily whispered as if afraid someone could hear.

Candle smoke hung above them like starlight, floating through the air on the breeze. They fell asleep tucked into one another, no longer two beings but one body, one connected mind and spirit. James could no longer tell where his body ended, and hers began. And as night fell and the shadows deepened, Lily reached up and kissed him, slipping softly into sleep.

_If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of that! Thank you to all of you who have stood by my side as I completed this behemoth of a work, it means more to me than you will ever know. To Just Forget the World is the first novel-length work I have attempted, and I am so fortunate to have such a lovely group of you who have followed me all this way.
> 
> Much love, for the last time :)
> 
> xoxo
> 
> V


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